


Trapped

by RebeccaDopplemeyer



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 27,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebeccaDopplemeyer/pseuds/RebeccaDopplemeyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When April finds out about Ann's crush on her, April has a brand new way to torture Ann.  Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ida_Phillips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ida_Phillips/gifts).



> Based (very loosely) on Ida Phillips's prompt: Ann and April stranded together, maybe Leslie does it on purpose because she wants them to get along. Sorry if this gets too dark!

“Ron,” April yelled from her chair, “call the cops. That slutty meth addict is here again.”

“It’s just me, Ron,” Ann sighed as she walked into the office. She hadn’t even been here for five seconds, and already April had started in on her. As if today hadn’t been bad enough already.

April glared at Ann. “What are you doing here?”

Ann fidgeted in place, trying not to meet April’s piercing gaze. She hated to fight back; April hated her, there was no doubt about that, but somehow Ann couldn’t let go of the thought that one day, they could be friends. Or, Ann thought in lonely, quiet moments, they could be more.

“Leslie and Chris asked me to come,” Ann said sheepishly.

“So you could annoy me?” 

“No,” Ann said, looking up at April sadly. It hurt so much when all she wanted to do was be around April, and April would never give her a chance. 

Ann tried to begin a thought she’d had a thousand times: “April, I just… I wish--” 

“That you weren’t so fat and ugly?”

“I wish--”

“That you weren’t such an annoying ho?”

“April _please_.” Ann was trying so hard to keep it together. _What do I have to do to make you like me?_ , she thought. 

All of a sudden it struck her how sick all of this was. April’s abuse had been immediate and brutal, and it had never let up. And instead of standing up for herself, or just avoiding April, or anything else… Ann just kept trying to win April over. _What are you doing?_ , she thought. No matter what April did, no matter how deeply April insulted her, her attraction to April never went away. _Have some sense of self-respect_ , she thought. But some things exerted a force on you that was greater than self-respect, and April Ludgate was nothing if not a force. Ann had tried to warm her hands over the flame no matter how much it just ended up burning her.

April quietly studied Ann’s face, wondering how much, exactly, her latest assault had hurt. But there wasn’t a hint of guilt on April’s features -- she regarded Ann with an almost scientific detachment, thinking about Ann’s breaking point the way you would estimate the pounds per square inch a common item could withstand in a stress test. 

Then April’s face changed. If Ann had been watching, she would have seen something click, some new expression of concern appear, forming too quickly and fully to be real.

“Actually, Ann, I wanted to ask you… Would you want to come over to my place, sometime?” April bit her lip in a show of nervousness. “For some girl time, just us?”

Ann looked up at April, shocked. “I… yeah, April.”

“Really?” April asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Ann said, her features flooding with relief as she smiled for the first time that day.

April got up, and reached out her hands for a hug. 

Ann walked to April and embraced her, holding her close. April felt good in her arms. She had thought about a moment like this for so long that she couldn’t think of anything else but the next steps of that fantasy. She ran her hands over April’s back, pressing her body into hers, inhaling deeply the scent of April’s hair.

April’s cheek brushed hers, and her lips moved an inch away from Ann’s ear, whispering to Ann: “You’re so fucking pitiful.”

Ann was jarred out of the fantasy, and dropped her hands, pulling away.

“What?” Ann looked at April in horror.

“Jesus fucking Christ, why would I ever want to spend time with you? And I tell you all the time what a piece of shit you are.” April shook her head. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Ann Perkins.” 

Ann was so raw that she could barely stop from shaking. 

“Why do you do this to me?” she asked quietly.

“Why do you let me?” April replied quickly.

Ann sniffed. 

“I don’t know,” she said, looking April up and down sadly. Even now, Ann wasn’t able to stop the thought that despite April’s bitterness and anger, she was so, so beautiful. 

“Oh my God,” April said, her face lighting up. 

“What?” Ann said, trying not to break.

“You’re a fucking _lesbo_.” April said as if a puzzle piece had just clicked into place.

“No, I--” Ann started.

“And you’re fucking gay for me.” 

“No--!” Ann said, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening.

“Everyone is going to know what a--” April started, when Chris opened Leslie’s door.

“Ann Perkins!” Chris said, two index fingers pointing at Ann. He didn’t notice the panic and tears in her eyes. “Just the person we wanted to see!” 

Leslie joined Chris. “Ann, we’re sending April to D.C. for a Parks Department conference, and we thought: there’s no better person to send with her than our beautiful, ambassadorial fawn, Ann Perkins.”

“Leslie,” Ann pleaded, putting a hand on Leslie’s elbow to lead them into the privacy of her office. “Please don’t send me there with April. _Please_.”

“Oh Ann, nonsense. You’re both smart, passionate, beautiful government employees. It’s time you two got much, much closer.” 

Ann swallowed nervously, and looked out to the hall. There April grinned like an animal that had just cornered its prey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April and Ann fly to DC.

The small airplane bathroom was illuminated only by blood-red light, drenching her features in crimson and deep shadows.

Ann slid the door lock to “Occupied,” and above her the light switched to florescent yellow. She braced herself against the sink, running a little water and splashing it in her face, trying to halt everything and just focus.

She grudgingly looked up to see her own visage in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes weren’t going to go away, and her hands were still shaking. _Stop it_ , she thought. _You can do this_. 

* * * 

\-- Earlier that day --

When Ann and April boarded the plane, they found that their two seats were the only ones in their row.

Ann tried to read the book she had bought in the terminal, some thick pulp paperback, about detectives or maybe espionage, that promised to make the trip go faster. But she had re-read the first few sentences three times, and she still couldn’t focus on anything. April had been strangely silent this whole time, keeping her earbuds in even through security and the terminal. (A TSA attendant had started to ask her to step aside to be randomly screened, but after a sustained, hard stare from April, he decided to pick someone else.) Occasionally Ann would notice, out of the corner of her eye, April watching her, carefully, studiously -- but every time she met April’s eyes she would quickly look away. 

As the airplane began to take off, Ann gripped her armrest, her thumb plunging into the round button that would let the seat recline. She closed her eyes. This was always the worst part of flying. Once they made altitude, once they leveled out, she could relax. But for now all she could feel was the shuddering of the floor beneath her feet. Her fingers had gone white around the armrest. 

She looked toward the window, to see how far up they had gone, but saw only April, whose eyes were on the death grip Ann’s hand had on the chair. When Ann saw the look in April’s eyes, she knew what was happening, and her stomach turned over. 

April was calmly, patiently observing Ann’s weaknesses.

Once they reached altitude the flight attendants started down the aisle to take drink orders. April pulled out a single earbud and poked Ann in the arm. 

“Buy me a bloody mary,” April said, though it sounded like she was asking, not telling.

Ann was confused. “Do you mean, order you a bloody mary?”

April’s turned to face Ann full on. “No. Do what I said, Ann. You make more money than I do. Buy me a drink.”

When the flight attendants reached them, April was busy with the safety brochure in the seat pocket, blacking out the eyes of the people in the diagrams and writing “dead” next to the ones she judged wouldn’t make it out alive. But one earbud was still out, hanging next to her shoulder, and Ann got the feeling April was watching everything through her peripheral vision.

“Anything for you?” the older stewardess with small hoop earrings asked.

“Could she get a bloody mary?” Ann asked. “How much is it?” Ann was about to hand over the money when April spoke, but didn’t look up from the brochure.

“Get yourself one, too,” she said.

“I don’t want one,” Ann muttered, shooting April a look.

April finally took out her other earbud in exasperation, and said, much too loudly, “My girlfriend will have a bloody mary, too.”

The stewardess glanced from April to Ann and back again, trying not to react. 

“I’m--” Ann stammered, pleading to the stewardess, “I’m not her girlfriend.”

“OK, she’s not my girlfriend,” April interjected, “She just uses me for sex.”

“April!” Ann whipped around, hurt and angry. 

April just stared at her, and said simply: “Like you’d have a problem with that?” She turned to the stewardess. “A bloody mary for each of us. She’s paying,” April gestured at Ann, and put in both of her earbuds.

When Ann paid the flight attendant, she couldn’t look her in the eye.

Ann downed the bloody mary quickly, trying not to notice the gazes of any of the other passengers. Then she got the blanket out from beneath her seat and draped it over her, the iced drink and her skirt leaving her bare legs cold. The vodka in her drink was starting to take effect, and as her muscles relaxed, she slumped in her chair, and began to close her eyes.

After a moment she felt the blanket around her move, and looked up, annoyed, to see April pulling it onto her, too. 

“Don’t be so pissy,” April said, putting a hand, beneath the blanket, on April’s bare knee. 

Ann couldn’t help but immediately inhale, and again, April watched her reaction with that look of detachment and calculation. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards into something that mimicked the beginnings of a smile. April’s hand began to slide up April’s knee and onto her thigh.

“ _April_ ,” Ann whispered harshly. 

“Hmm?” April said, her hand still advancing.

“April!” Ann said, louder, a few heads in the other rows turning toward them.

“You’re making a scene, Ann,” April said quietly, her movements subtle enough under the blanket that no one could tell what was happening. April’s hand had reached the hem of Ann’s skirt.

Ann’s eyes were starting to close as the vodka and the feeling of April’s hand on her thigh caught up with her all at once.

“I’ll stop if you ask me to. Do you want me to stop?” April asked quietly.

“I…” Ann said, trying to stop her body from reacting. “Why are you doing this?”

April just tilted her head as her hand made its way slowly underneath Ann’s skirt. “Maybe I like it, too.”

Ann noticed that, as if on their own accord, her legs were spreading to make room for April’s hand. She tried to keep her eyes open, but she was failing. Ann licked her lips. “You do?”

“ _Maybe_ I do…” April whispered, her hand now far up Ann’s skirt, almost to her panties. 

Then April’s face and voice dropped into her usual deadpan all at once: “Or maybe I just wanted to see how much of a slut you really are." 

Ann’s eyes shot open, looking at April, and her legs clamped shut. April’s emotionless eyes held Ann’s gaze, her hand gripping Ann’s thigh tightly. 

Ann pulled away, fumbling with her seatbelt until she could stand up, and made her way to the bathroom, barely keeping momentum by pushing off of each seat she passed.

* * * 

_Stop it_ , she thought. _You can do this_. But no matter how long she looked into the mirror, Ann couldn’t stop shaking. She hated April for doing this to her, for being able to see right through her. And yet as she closed her eyes, it was impossible not to focus on the feeling of April’s hand on her thigh, moving higher and higher. Ann bit her lip, trying to control herself. But she couldn’t, and mingled with her embarrassment was intense arousal at the thought that April’s hand had been so close to her center. 

Ann started to cry again. _Stop it_ , she thought again. She took a few shuddering breaths, and splashed still more cold water on her face. After a few minutes, she still felt weak, but she wasn’t visibly shaking any more. She stared into the mirror, taking in how tired and sad she looked, but still thinking to herself: _You can do this_. She steadied herself, took a deep breath, and opened the door. 

On her way back, she kept her head up, and sat down next to April, avoiding her gaze and picking up her book with deliberate aloofness.

She could see out of her peripheral vision that April had shifted in her seat. She had crossed her legs, and now her own skirt was riding up high on her thigh. Ann had never seen April show so much of her legs before.

At that moment all of Ann’s resolve faded away as she stared wantonly at April’s legs, and unconsciously licked her lips. April didn’t even need to look at her to know that Ann, for all her pathetic bravery, didn’t stand a chance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and April get to DC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this is kind of a lot of exposition. There will be smut in future chapters, I promise!

Ann hadn’t spoken to April since before she had been in the bathroom on the airplane. April had made a few offhand comments, but hadn’t bothered to take out her earbuds, and Ann hadn’t responded. She pretended to read her book, and she pretended that she hadn’t been crying in the bathroom. She pretended that she wasn’t thinking constantly about April’s hand on her leg, and she pretended that she didn’t hate herself for that.

When they left the airport, Ann had expected to see the Jefferson Memorial in the distance, or at least the Washington Monument. But instead they saw only snow, coming down in slow, swerving sheets. It was already starting to pile up on either side of the walkways around the airport, and was up to Ann’s knee. The air was sharp and bitter in her lungs. Miraculously, April didn’t complain, but hunched her shoulders forward, trying to stay warm. While they waited for the cab, errant snowflakes fell around them, white pouring out of a black sky, leaving the world preternaturally quiet. 

As they stood waiting for the cab, Ann furtively watched April. Snowflakes were fluttering down around her, and some caught on her black hair, a delicate crown of white. Her brown eyes were watching the road for the cab, but nothing was coming. Ann realized at that moment that she would remember this image for a long, long time: April framed against black sky and white snow, amongst all that cold, all that silence.

* * * 

By the time the cab got to the hotel, the snow was two feet deep, and had started to come down hard and fast. Ann reached the front desk first -- after all of this, she needed to be in her own room, alone, to begin to recover. She got her room key, and started to tell April goodnight, but thought better of it. She didn’t want some comment about whether Ann was going to pick up a guy first, or something else that she would mull over again and again in bed, the repetition making sleep impossible.

She left before April could notice. It was cowardly. But she was too tired to care.

When she got to the room, she opened her laptop and waited for Skype to connect.

Leslie’s face appeared on the screen.

“Oh, Ann,” Leslie said, looking nervously at something on her computer.

“Hey,” Ann said drearily. “You wanted me to touch base when we got in.”

“Yes, hi!” Leslie said, though it sounded forced. Then her voice was flooded with real concern: “What happened? Was the flight bad? Was April mean to you? Look, I’ve noticed that she’s been meaner and meaner to you over the past few months…”

“What?”

“I mean, you just… you look rough.”

Ann choked out a laugh. “Thanks, Leslie--”

“No, you look beautiful, as always, but… I thought this would help. A vacation, a chance to, you know...”

Ann paused. “What? Help with what?”

“Ann… I’m your best friend. I can tell when you haven’t been yourself. It’s been months, and every day you look more worn down, every day you…”

“I what?” Ann said, feeling like everything was slipping out of her hands.

Leslie just shook her head, sadly, before looking directly at Ann. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

Ann’s lip started to tremble, but she fought it, and with effort it stopped. She had gotten pretty good at this: lying to her best friend. Lying to everyone, in fact. A few months ago she would have crumbled at Leslie’s question, and confessed everything. But she’s had practice. 

Her face obeyed her, forming a tight smile and the emulating life in her eyes. “Everything’s fine, Leslie. It was just a long flight. We had some turbulence, that’s all. I’m OK.” 

No one could know about her feelings for April, or what they were doing to her. Lusting after a woman. A married woman. A married woman who seethed nothing but hatred for her. What kind of person could be so attracted, in the face of hatred like that?

When Leslie had come into her life, Ann had found for the first time ever someone she could tell anything to. But now she was alone again, unable to tell anyone about the desperate thoughts that occurred to her daily -- all the more desperate when April’s cruelty was brazen. Leslie could never know that.

And so she held the smile, like she was holding pieces of china stacked precariously on one another. And with every effort to make her eyes shine with false happiness, she felt tears pressing to the surface.

For a moment Leslie just looked at her, and slowly nodded. “OK, Ann. OK.”

“So,” Ann said, her voice cracking only a little, “I should hit the hay. Pretty tired after the trip.”

“Yeah. Umm, so Ann, I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier. We just got word on the conference.”

“OK...” Ann frowned.

“It’s been cancelled because of the blizzard. They said there’s going to be five feet of snow by morning. But listen, just treat it as a working vacation. You can use the time to bond with April.”

Ann’s hand was starting to shake, and she was grateful it was out of frame. 

“Yeah. Time to bond,” Ann said distantly.

“Talk to you soon?” Leslie asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

“I… OK.” Leslie looked once more at Ann, paused, and then the screen went white.

Ann got up, paced around, repeating her mantra: “You can do this.”

Each time she said it she believed it less and less, and by after thirty seconds or so she had come up with a new plan: escape April, go back to Pawnee, right now.

She was going to go downstairs and talk to the front desk about helping her find a flight out of here, when she opened the door to find April standing there.

“All the flights have been canceled,” April said dully, pushing Ann aside to bring her bags into the room.

“What are you doing?” Ann asked.

“My reservation didn’t work, so I have to stay here.” April began putting her stuff away.

“April, we made both the reservations at once. It worked--”

“It didn’t work,” April cut her off, brushing past Ann to put some things in the bathroom.

“Then we’ll get you another room--”

“All the other rooms are taken because of the blizzard,” April said, coming back into the bedroom.

Ann needed April to stop making excuses, stop invading her space -- just stop. She pulled her aside by the arm. 

“April, if you gave up your reservation to sleep in this room…” Ann said, trying to sound threatening but only sounding shaky.

April rolled her eyes and yanked back her arm. “You wish.”

“April,” Ann said carefully, “did you--”

“Ann,” April cut her off. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here.”

Ann ground her teeth, trying to let go of the fact that April wasn’t going to answer the question, trying to deal with the fact that her suspicion might be correct. 

“April,” she said more softly, trying a different tack. “This is a single. There’s only one bed.”

April just grabbed a tank top from her bag. “Then try not to eat me out while I’m sleeping,” she said. She narrowed her eyes to slits: “I know that’ll be a real challenge for you,” she said, and closed the bathroom door behind her. 

Ann heard the shower turn on, and sat down on the bed, her head in her hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann does a favor for April.

Ann tried to cherish the few moments she would have alone, now that it was going to be just her and April in this hotel room for the next four days. She didn’t know if she’d be able to make it; she was already felt raw and exposed. Every breath was ragged, but she tried to drag it out, tried to draw from the quiet room some strength she could use for the next few days.

That quiet was broken by April calling her name from the bathroom. Ann got up, and walked to the door which wasn’t entirely closed, yellow light and steam coming from the small crack amidst the sound of the running shower.

“What?” Ann asked, trying not to look through the crack.

“Bring me my shampoo -- the hotel shampoo is gross.”

Ann looked through April’s bag for a moment before finding the shampoo. She pushed her hand through the door, trying to set the shampoo on the bathroom counter.

An irritated voice met her: “I kind of need the shampoo while I’m actually _in the shower_ , Ann.”

Ann closed her eyes and ground her teeth. She took a breath. “OK,” she said to herself. “OK.” She opened the door slowly, and took a small step into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The room was filled with thick steam permeated with warm light, fogging the mirror and the glass square of the shower. 

Behind the glass she could see the hazy outline of April’s body, dark hair slicked back against slender shoulders. Everything was too foggy to see much detail, and Ann quickly looked away when she realized that she wished she could see more. 

She shuffled forward, keeping her face and eyes averted, until the shampoo bottle in her outstretched hand clinked against the glass door. 

April reached out, but instead of opening the shower, she wiped away the condensation on the glass in a circle, just big enough for her face. Ann turned back to the shower, looking at April’s face through the clear circle she had made. Everything else was foggy, and Ann couldn’t see anything distinctly, though she could make out the general shape of April’s waist and hips and breasts in her peripheral vision. Ann realized right now that she was less than a foot away from April’s completely naked body, with only a pane of glass between them. She swallowed. 

April watched Ann’s reaction carefully and smiled. She opened the door with a click, slowly pushing it open to erase the barrier between them, and put up and open hand for the shampoo.

The thudding in her ears, Ann realized, was her own pulse. She kept her eyes resolutely locked with April’s, unwilling to look down, no matter how much she wanted to. 

Ann kept the shampoo at arm’s length, but April wasn’t meeting her halfway; she kept her open hand close to her. Ann slowly walked forward, not breaking eye contact, closing the distance between them, and putting the bottle in April’s hand. 

“Thank you,” April said, far too sweetly, and reached a wet, hot hand up to touch Ann’s shoulder, bringing her incrementally closer. Ann could feel the heat of the shower, small drops of water hitting her top and arm as they bounced off of April’s skin. Ann could feel the moisture collecting on her forehead, but didn’t know if it was steam from the shower or sweat.

April leaned over, her body so close that it was almost touching Ann’s, and she could feel the heat pulsing off of it, bringing out the heat rising under her own skin.

April whispered: “Don’t hog all the blankets tonight.”

Ann realized that her arm was still outstretched, her hand still grasping the shampoo bottle so hard that her fingers were white. She let go, and immediately turned around, and walked out of the bathroom, the dry air in the bedroom a brisk chill. 

She stood there, listening to April’s shower for a minute, trying to breathe, trying to feel her own limbs and skin again. 

And when she did, she felt a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Fuck,” she said, as she realized that she was wet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann has a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the ending a bit from how it was initially posted.

The shower was still going when Ann realized that there was truly no way out. The next four days would be spent in this tiny room, with Ann’s heart beating faster every time April brushed past her, every time April made a cutting remark.

Ann walked over to the desk by the small window, looking out at the darkness, the lights of the city blurry amidst the falling snow. She peered down at the street below; white covered everything. She couldn’t go home; she couldn’t even take a walk to give herself a respite from April. 

Ann looked to the door, the bathroom, and the beds, and suddenly everything felt impossibly claustrophobic. Her pulse picked up, and she closed her eyes, trying to regain control. “Don’t do this,” she whispered. “You don’t do this anymore,” she said, wondering if this would turn into a full blown panic attack, the kind she hadn’t experienced in years.

The shower turned off.

Ann quickly sucked in air, trying to breathe, but her lungs couldn’t get full. “Don’t do this,” she said again, her voice full of desperation.

Ann noticed the mini fridge in the corner and rushed toward it, throwing it open as the contents clattered inside. 

Thank God. There was vodka and orange juice, and she took them both out, pouring three of the tiny bottles of vodka into a glass, and mixing with a dash of orange juice. She took a swig, and immediately her nerves began to calm.

She shuffled over to sit down by the window, and with a shaky hand gripped the drink. The next gulp felt like coming up for air. 

After a few minutes of watching the snow, the alcohol finally began to catch up to her tired, achy limbs. The beginnings of relaxation. She didn’t know why she hadn’t made a drink as soon as they got into the room. She made one, or two, (or three) for herself every night at home. It was the only way she could sleep -- the room slowly swirling to a black abyss, heady waves pushing out all thought, leaving her in calm to fall asleep. 

“Thanks for the shampoo,” April said tonelessly behind her.

Ann closed her eyes, and took another drink. “Sure,” she muttered. 

_This_ was the way to deal with April. The booze was slowly erecting a soft, blurry shield between her and April -- a shield that dulled the irritation and self-loathing. A shield that allowed her to step back, and just say “Fuck it.”

Ann kept drinking, looking out the window at the snow coming down in a pitch black night. 

In her peripheral vision, Ann saw April drag the other chair close to the desk, and a moment later she heard the chair legs scraping across carpet, like an audio track that had fallen out of sync with the video. 

April held out her hand in an unasked question. Ann clumsily pushed the drink into April’s palm. April took a swig, grimacing at how strong it was. Ann laughed mirthlessly, took the drink back, taking a bigger swig.

April frowned, and in the recesses of Ann’s mind she registered that April had that look again -- observing Ann, watching her, trying to figure her out. But as soon as the thought had come, it was gone, and Ann was concentrating on the snow outside the window and the drink in her hand.

For a long time, they sat there at the desk, hearing only the click of the heater on the other side of the room, watching the snow flutter back and forth in the dark.

“Why do _you_ drink, anyway?” April asked, a mix of irritation and curiosity.

Ann turned toward April for the first time since her shower, and noticed that April was wearing only a short, white tank top and white cotton panties. She dragged her eyes away from April’s panties, and met her gaze unsteadily. She thought about April’s hand on her leg on the plane; she thought about how wet she still was from seeing April in the shower.

Ann paused for a long while, going back over the same thoughts she always had, the alcohol cushioning her against the brunt of her own self-hatred.

“I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment,” Ann said caustically as she took a long pull on her drink.

As Ann set it down, April took a sip. “You probably made this so you could get me drunk,” April said. “Did you rufie it?”

“Fuck you, April,” Ann tossed off as she took another drink. 

“You wish.”

Ann laughed bitterly. “Well,” she said, the drink wobbling in her hand as she gestured, “you’re the one who had your hand up my skirt on the plane.”

“Fuck you,” April said, grabbing the drink from Ann’s hand. “I’m married.”

Ann scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve fucked Andy. He’s not that good.”

April’s breath whistled bluntly through clenched teeth. “You know what I think?”

“What?” Ann said, her head lolling to rest on her own shoulder as she looked at the window, “What do you think, April Ludgate?”

“I think that if I told you to make out with me right now, you would.” 

Ann turned to April, unsteadily setting down the screwdriver. “If I did,” Ann started, “ _If_ I did, it would only be because I don’t fucking care, April. I don’t fucking care.”

“Then just do it already,” April said impatiently.

“Fuck you, April,” Ann seethed, as she lunged at April, dragging her mouth hard onto April’s lips. Within seconds April’s lips were open and Ann’s tongue was in her mouth, April’s hands pressing Ann into her. April’s mouth was so wet and soft and for once Ann felt like she could breathe without a drink in her hand.

They eventually made their way to the bed, making every effort not to break the kiss, but failing when Ann was too drunk to keep her balance. She didn’t care; all she wanted was to taste April’s tongue again, to feel the press of her lips against hers. 

But it was all fading out, fading fast. At some point beyond Ann’s reckoning, April turned off the lights. Then it was just her mouth and April’s, which she explored tenderly, thoroughly. They made out until she came up for air, her tired head resting on the pillow, and then she went back to kissing her. The breaks became longer and longer until she realized that April wasn’t kissing her back; she was letting Ann kiss her, seeing what Ann would do, how desperately she would kiss her, pondering what it said about Ann that she would french kiss April Ludgate with only the slightest provocation. They parted. 

"I know you haven't forgotten," April's voice was matter of fact in the darkening room, "that I'm married." Ann could almost hear the unspoken postscript: "Homewrecker."

Ann closed her eyes, drunkenness and exhaustion the only things blunting the pain. That abyss began to overtake her, and as she fell asleep she breathed out: "Fuck you, April."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann wakes up.

As she began to wake, Ann became aware of a pounding pulse of light and pressure. Her head ached, and it felt like everything from the outside was pushing in. Through the pain and fog, Ann groped through her memories, trying to recall what happened last night. She opened her eyes, and she was rewarded with whiteness that flooded into her vision and felt like an uppercut. She clamped her eyes shut, and began to open them slowly. All the blankets but a sheet were kicked to the floor, and she saw the empty vodka bottles on the desk by the window. She must have gotten drunk last night. Ann tried to remember what happened, and why she had been drinking, when she looked to the other side, and saw April lying face down on the bed, wearing a white tank top, April’s ass covered only by white cotton panties.

And Ann’s hand.

Ann yanked her hand away quickly, simultaneously berating herself for waking up with her hand on April’s ass, and thankful that April wasn’t awake yet to feel it.

She pushed herself clumsily off the bed and made for the bathroom, and everything flooded back. She had kissed April. Again and again. She closed the bathroom door behind her, and braced herself on the sink. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair was tangled, her eye makeup a smudged, dirty mess. The dark circles under her eyes from yesterday were worse. Her mouth hung slightly open. She looked like she felt.

Looking at herself in that tiny bathroom, under weak but unforgiving fluorescents, she had her first coherent thought: “You should be grateful April even made out with you.”

And then Ann was consumed with involuntary memory. She thought of how April would never forgo the opportunity to call her a slut. She felt April’s lips on hers. She heard April remind her that she was kissing a married woman. She felt the press of April’s body. She heard the way she told April to go fuck herself. She felt the sensation of sliding her tongue slowly against April’s. 

Ann tried to tamp down her feelings, but she couldn’t. She shuddered with pure desire. She opened her eyes to see her image in the mirror, and threw up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and April play a game.

After a shower Ann ventured out back into the room, finding April still alseep on the bed. She quietly culled a small breakfast from the minibar, and ate it in the bathroom, sitting on the cover of the toilet. 

Suddenly the door opened, and April sleepily wandered in.

“Hey,” Ann said, standing up awkwardly.

April just rubbed her eyes as she walked past Ann, reached for the shower, and turned on the hot water.

Ann cleared her throat. “So, listen, I feel like I need to say something. I was _so_ drunk, and I don’t want you to think I would have done that sober. I don’t feel that way about you. And I’m really embarrassed that I did that.”

April was turned away from Ann, and wasn’t paying attention. She pulled off her top, her bare back to Ann. 

Ann quickly turned away. Her breath caught in her throat. Determinedly keeping her eyes averted, she tried to speak: “We should just forget it. I was just drunk, and I didn’t mean any of it. I--I’m _straight_ ,” she stammered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that April had just taken off her panties. Ann felt her body flush with heat, and she immediately thought of what it would feel like to step into the shower with April. She heard the shower door close, and she bolted from the room, shutting the door behind her with her entire body.

* * *

In the silence of the bedroom, Ann looked out the window at the snow continuing to fall, white against gray sky. It was impossible to tell from the outside what time it was.

The bathroom door opened, and April emerged, wrapped in a towel, drying her hair with another.

“So,” April said nonchalantly, as she opened up her suitcase to look for clothes. “Are the next few days going to be super boring, are we going to make them not lame?” She shed her towel, and Ann whipped her head around to look away before she saw anything.

Ann’s pulse had already picked up, and her words were shakier than she wanted them to be: “Like what?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could play a drinking game.”

Ann’s headache still wasn’t gone. “No. No, absolutely not.” She shook her head vehemently, still turned away from April. “Besides, it’s…” Just then she realized that she had no idea if it was morning or afternoon. Somehow it had ceased to matter. “Whatever time it is, it’s too early,” she said.

“ _Or_ , we could play truth or dare.”

Ann frowned. “Seriously? No. What are we, twelve?”

Ann felt a hand on her arm, and turned to see April, fully clothed, wearing tight black jeans and a yellow and white baseball tee. 

“It’ll pass the time,” April said. There seemed to be a kindness in her eyes. A kindness that made Ann uneasy. 

Ann realized that she didn’t want to tell April anything she might ask about, or do anything she dared her to. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” April said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind Ann’s ear. Ann couldn’t help but shiver at April’s touch. She knew that this was a bad idea. She knew that April had to have an ulterior motive. But when April touched her, all she could feel was the fantasy she had been living in for the last few months.

“OK,” she felt herself say.

* * * 

“The bottle says who gets to ask,” April said as she put the empty vodka bottle onto the carpet. She spun it, making a _thwick, thwick, thwick_ sound on the carpet.

The bottle pointed at April. “OK,” April said gently, putting her hand on Ann’s knee for comfort. Ann tried not to react. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Do you… do you actually like, enjoy, feel good about _anything_ , April?”

“Or anyone?” April was looking Ann dead in the eye.

“Or anyone,” Ann said softly. Ann didn’t know what she wanted to hear. Part of her was terrified that April would say that she liked no one. In which case everything on this trip was just to see how long it took Ann to break. 

“Yes,” April said simply.

“Who?--”

“It’s not your turn, Ann.” 

April spun the bottle, and again in pointed to Ann.

“Who?” Ann demanded.

April cocked her head, and said deliberately: “You lose a turn.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You didn’t ask me ‘Truth or Dare?’”

“I--” Ann started, but April was already spinning the bottle again. It pointed to April.

“Truth or Dare?” April asked.

Ann’s breath hitched in her throat; she didn’t want either. She tried to move away, but April’s hand was firm on her knee.

“Dare.”

Ann wasn’t sure where that came from, and Ann’s heart sped up as she realized something: that part of her had taken over, for just a moment. The part of her that she tried to hard to silence; the part that made her drink each night. 

“I dare you to let me to keep my hand on your leg for the rest of the night.”

Ann gazed down at April’s hand, resting on her knee. She nodded silently.

April rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t asking,” she said. April’s hand moved up, past the knee, under the very hem of her skirt. 

Ann body was submerged in a familiar flush, but she tried hard not to let April see.

Ann reached out a slightly shaking hand, and spun the bottle. _Thwick, thwick, thwick_. It was aimed at Ann.

“Truth or Dare?” Ann asked pointedly.

“Dare.” April said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I dare you to drink the last bottle of vodka in the fridge.”

April watched Ann carefully. “I thought you said it was too early to drink?” April moved her hand up Ann’s thigh ever so slightly.

“I said it was too early for _me_ to drink.”

April nodded, satisfied. “Do I get a mixer?”

Ann’s jaw tightened, and she looked up and down at April. “No. You have to shoot the whole thing.” April had wanted to play this game. She had to do this.

April got up, found the small, double-shot bottle of vodka and uncapped it. The smell of alcohol wafted to Ann, who nearly gagged on the strong, sharp scent. April didn’t hesitate though, and put the bottle to her lips, the liquid draining from the bottle in big gulps. When April tossed the bottle aside, and put her hand back up Ann’s skirt, so far that her fingertips brushed Ann’s panties. 

Ann tensed and closed her eyes, trying not to react. Ann heard the soft sound of the bottle on carpet. _Thwick, thwick, thwick_. 

The bottle pointed toward Ann again. “Truth,” April volunteered.

Ann looked at April carefully. “Did you cancel your room to stay here?”

April held Ann’s eyes, giving her a long, steady look. “What do you want to hear?”

“The truth,” she said, holding April’s gaze, though every moment April’s fingers were against her panties she found it harder and harder to concentrate.

“Yes,” April said simply.

April’s hand she deftly pulled Ann’s panties aside and slid her fingers against Ann’s clit.

Ann tried unsuccessfully not to gasp, not to give April the satisfaction.

April began to slowly, methodically stroke Ann’s clit. Ann clenched her jaw. 

_Thwick, thwick, thwick_. It was aimed at April. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Ann murmured, trying not to think about what April’s hand was doing under her skirt.

“Why do you think you’re straight?”

Ann looked at April, suddenly frightened. “I… I don’t think I want to play this game anymore,” she said weakly.

“We just started,” April said.

“You’ve been playing a game with me this whole fucking trip, April,” Ann said. She meant to sound angry, but she only sounded sad.

She couldn’t deny that she was becoming April’s plaything. She couldn’t escape April Ludgate, no matter how she tried. And even if she could avoid April, there was still the part of her that thought of April’s lips against her skin, thought of waking up next to her.

April looked at her with hard eyes. “If we stop playing, I stop stroking your clit,” she said simply.

Ann bit her lip, trying to stop from getting any more wet. But she felt the sensation anyhow, and realized that she was failing.

Ann tried to form the words. She tried to say, “OK, then let’s stop.” She knew that was what she should do. But all that came out was: “I… I am straight,” Ann stuttered.

April narrowed her eyes, suddenly angry. Her movements beneath Ann’s skirt became quicker, more deliberate. 

“ _Ah_ ,” Ann moaned out in response.

“Do you I make you wet?” April asked tonelessly.

Ann shook her head back and forth, her hips beginning to rock against April’s hand. “I, I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

“ _Because_ , because you _hate_ me.” Ann choked out angrily as she began to cry, tears rolling down each cheek fast, as April kept touching her. The words were spilling out of her. “Chris wants to be with me. He wants it so bad. And he’s perfect. He _likes_ me, and God, he’s the most caring, supportive, _positive_ person I’ve ever met. He’s everything I should want.”

April kept stroking her hard. “What do you really want?” 

Ann just shook her head, tears falling onto her bare thighs below, her skirt hiked up far. “I want to hold your hand, and— and— wake up with you every morning, and make you breakfast and kiss you… Oh God, April, you _hate_ me. You hate the fact that I _exist_ , and every time you’re mean to me, every time you hurt me, I… I…” Ann kept sobbing, hard, as April’s fingers began to be coated in her growing wetness. “I want you more.” Ann’s eyes were closed, sealed shut with pain and hot tears. 

For a long time Ann could only hear her own sobs, and through her blurry vision she could see April just watching her, a look in her eyes she had never seen before. But then it was gone, and April reached out quickly for the bottle, spinning it, and it came to point to Ann. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” April said.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what?” April said innocently, her hand stroking Ann’s clit.

“Why are you doing _any of this_? I get you wanting to embarrass me in front of other people. But there’s no one here but you and me.”

April flinched visibly, and for the moment stopped stroking Ann’s clit. But her resolve reappeared on her face, harder this time.

“I don’t just want to embarrass you. I want to see what you’ll do,” April said defensively.

“What?” Ann moaned out, April’s caressing becoming too much for her to not react.

“You look like this perfect person. But every time I touch you,” April said, emphasizing her words with a particularly long stroke against Ann’s clit, “you show me just how fucking pitiful you are.”

Ann broke. She had hoped so much, against all reason, that April had been doing this because part of her liked her. Part of her wanted to be with her. Now that was lost, and all of this was nothing more than what April said it was: a reflection of how fucking pitiful Ann was.

April asked, quietly, curiously: “Do you want me to make you come?”

Ann looked at her, and knew what the question meant. Now April knew how she felt; now April knew how sick she was. She was asking if Ann wanted to give up on self-respect. She was asking if Ann wanted to give into that sickness. 

April knew she was weak. She knew that, when it came to April, she had always been weak. Ann nodded her head, slowly at first, then desperately, as fresh tears streaked her cheeks. Soon there would be nothing left of her except the part of her which craved this, no matter the consequences.

April increased the speed of her hand, and Ann’s body responded automatically. “Oh God,” Ann choked out, her hips rising and falling with each stroke of April’s fingers. Every sensation in Ann’s body was building into an insurmountable weight; everything threatened to collapse in on itself at any moment. 

“ _April_ ,” Ann moaned, “I’m… I’m so close.”

“Tell me when you’re going to come,” April coaxed her gently as the rhythm increased. “I want to know how much you really want me.”

Ann was on the verge of losing her mind. She knew that when she came, it would be the most intense orgasm of her life. “I’m-- _I’m going to come_ ,” she bawled.

With that April yanked her hand away, and Ann looked at her with panicked, searching eyes, her body shaking with the expectation of orgasm. 

“No,” April said steadily. “You’re not.”

Ann collapsed into a ball, her body still vibrating, begging for consummation, but every sensation now was now a sign of how much April wanted her to suffer. She had just asked April Ludgate to let her come, _begged her_.

As Ann laid on the floor, looking up into April’s seemingly emotionless eyes, she realized that no matter the flashes of humanity she saw in April, that girl was only interested in seeing how far she could go until Ann broke.

Even the self-destructive part of her wouldn’t be satisfied by April. She should have known it would turn out this way. 

April knew her secret now; she knew that, no matter how badly April treated her, she would always beg for more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the game.

Ann shuddered as she woke up on the floor in the fetal position. She was cold, but it wasn’t just her skin -- it felt like she was cold from the inside out, as if her core had been replaced with a gaping maw, pulling all the life from her insides. She blinked again and again, but the room didn’t come into focus, and the effort brought on a headache. She stared at the carpet her face laid against, the fibers curly and dirty this close up. 

The room was filled only by a grayish light, filtered through curtain and cloud and snow.

For a long time, Ann wondered if she would just stay there forever. The last thing she had remembered was quietly crying, holding herself, until the trembling, frustrated energy inside of her faded, giving way to exhaustion.

Now, in the quiet of the darkened room, she could not imagine wanting anything like she had wanted April. She couldn’t imagine wanting anything again. She thought of Leslie, of Chris, of her life in Pawnee, like they were mere facts, details about someone else’s life. She knew she should think of all of those things with love, or at least fondness. But in her thoughts they were lifeless, just like she was. She shouldn’t feel this way. She wouldn’t, if she had been a better person. A person who wasn’t broken. 

With a shaky hand bracing the floor, Ann gradually stood up. April was laying on the bed, on top of the covers, listening to her headphones. She looked up, and popped one out. 

“Sleep well?” she asked, a wry coldness in her voice.

Ann glanced at her absently, before murmuring that she had to pee.

Ann went into the bathroom, and as she sat on the toilet, she focused on nothing but the coldness of the ceramic tile on her bare feet. After a few minutes she realized that she had stopped peeing, got up, and washed her hands. In the mirror she barely registered seeing her face, noticing the stray thought that it looked like she had been up for days. She looked down at her hands, noticing how the bubbles formed little white webs between her fingers, before she washed them down the drain.

She made her way back to the bedroom, her fingers dripping slowly on the carpet. 

“You wanna play Truth or Dare again?” April’s voice echoed in the room.

Ann had been looking in April’s general direction, but didn’t notice her. “No,” she said quietly, turning to April. “No.” 

April paused, looking over Ann’s face carefully. April plucked out the second earbud. “Umm,” she started, before steadying her voice. “You wanna get drunk?”

Ann was staring at the carpet again. “No…”

April sat up a little straighter, crossing her arms, annoyed. “Jeez, Ann, don’t have a fucking breakdown.” 

Ann just nodded slightly. “OK, April,” she said sadly. She thought she might as well try, but trying wasn’t likely to bear any fruit. It was a moot point. 

“Hey,” April said, standing up, now actually angry. “You liked it, OK? Everything up until the last part _you liked_.”

Ann shrugged. “I did,” she said, still staring past April toward the carpet. Of course, that wasn’t really true. Only a part of her had liked it. The other part of her had been in agony. But it was just another moot point. Everything was.

Ann was tired still. It wasn’t clear how long she had slept on the floor, but it hadn’t been enough. She got into the bed April had just gotten out of, and slowly got under the covers, trying not to strain her aching muscles. She closed her eyes.

“I don’t see why you’re so messed up about this,” April said, “I didn’t even do anything that… look, can you just stop?” Ann felt a warm hand on her shoulder. “You’re being super lame right now. Just… just stop, ok?” April almost sounded like a little girl.

Ann sighed. “I’m sorry, April,” she said. It was quiet, but genuine. The hand left her, but Ann hardly noticed as sleep overtook her again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and April have a talk.

Ann was gently pushed back onto her side, and the voice slowly penetrated her fuzzy consciousness. 

“Hey,” April said.

Ann opened her eyes to see April leaning over her, an unreadable look on her face.

“You, um, you’ve been asleep for a long time.”

Ann sat up, her body still achingly tired. “OK,” she said, still not totally sure why April had woken her up.

“There’s food. I mean, I ordered room service. You slept through them bringing it in.”

“OK,” Ann said again, sitting up on the bed before slowly making her way to the desk where the food was laid out. She ate pasta, staring down at the plate, her mind blank as she slowly finished the dish.

“Can you just--” April started, her voice breaking into Ann’s numbness. Ann looked up at her. “Can you just say something?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re freaking me out, OK?” April said.

“Sorry,” Ann said, honestly but spiritlessly. 

“Why,” April yelled, clenching her fists, “why are _you_ the one who is sorry?” There were tears glistening in her eyes.

Ann just looked her up and down, curious about what was happening, a slight frown on her face.

“Forget it,” April said, and dropped her fists, her hands hanging loosely at her sides. 

“Sorry,” Ann whispered, and climbed back in bed.

“No no no,” April said, reaching out a pleading hand, “don’t go back to sleep. Please.” 

But Ann was already curled up in the fetal position, her back to April, her face to the frosted-over window. “If you’re bored, you can turn on the TV. I’ll sleep through it,” Ann said.

“I’m not bored, I just… what’s going on?”

Ann’s eyes were heavy, the snow streaming down past the window becoming fuzzy. “What?”

Ann felt a warm, shuddering hand on her shoulder. “Do you hate me?” April asked in a small voice.

Ann shook her head. “No,” she said quietly, honestly. She couldn’t be angry at April. Mostly because she couldn’t feel anything, anymore. But also because, even before all this, she never could hate her.

April’s voice was smaller, shakier: “Do you still… do you still like me?”

The window left Ann’s vision as she closed her eyes, and she frowned. “Hmm?”

“What you _said_.” Ann could barely register the quiet panic in April’s tone. “About wanting to kiss me, and hold my hand, and…” April sniffed, “wake up with me. Do you still want that?”

Ann’s frown went away. “Yes,” she said quietly. She remembered what she used to turn over in her mind, images of them together -- talking, holding hands, making love. They had always brought an icy sadness, but they had usually brought warmth, too. Now they were empty. The images were still there, but they had neither coldness nor warmth.

April’s voice was barely a whisper: “Why?”

Ann just shook her head softly against the pillow.

“Do you want to kiss me now at least?” April whimpered.

Ann breathed out a long sigh. Worry creased her features. “I’ll kiss you, April. I’ll always kiss you. But you need to know something. If you try to make me desperate again, like you did, it won’t work.” Every sentence sounded so matter of fact, so resigned. 

Ann finished, depleted: “I don’t _care_ , April. And that’s why you can’t hurt me anymore.”

Behind her, Ann heard a quiet, defeated sob. “That’s why I don’t want to anymore.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April says something important to Ann.

When Ann awoke, she felt April’s body on the other side of the bed. She was still coming slowly to consciousness when she turned to see April, on top of the blankets that Ann had been under, completely asleep. She had always wondered what April looked like when she slept. When the narrowed eyes and grimaces were gone, whether she would finally look peaceful.

But April’s forehead was deeply creased, her eyes shut tight, her breathing uneven. She looked like she was in pain. 

Ann watched her for a long time, and April didn’t stir, aside from occasionally frowning deeper. 

Ann got up and closed the bathroom door behind her, and got in the shower. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed in the hot shower. At some point she found herself writing languorously on the steamy shower door with her index finger: _Ann_. 

She looked carefully at the letters, frowning, trying to recognize them.

_A n n_

With fresh steam, the letters slowly disappeared into the background of hot condensation.

Just then Ann heard April burst into the bathroom. 

“Ann?” April said, her voice spiked with panic.

“Yeah,” Ann said softly, still watching the letters fade.

“OK. I, I didn’t know where you were I thought… Sorry...” April trailed off, beginning to calm down.

Ann turned away from the letters to face April. She couldn’t see April very well through the fog on the shower door and the steam in the room. All she could tell was that April had an arm raised up, her hand pressed against her eyes.

“It’s OK, I’m not looking, I promise,” April said.

“I know,” Ann said. 

“Umm, do you want food, when you get out?”

“I guess,” Ann said.

For a long moment April didn’t say anything and tarried. Ann could hazily see April shifting from foot to foot. Finally she turned, groping her way blindly to the door and closed it behind her.

* * * 

When Ann got out of the shower, she dressed slowly in front of the mirror. Her hair wasn’t greasy anymore, but it hung down past her pale, sullen face in limp strands. She pulled on a shirt, and entered the bedroom full of chilly, sharp air.

April was laying down on the bed, looking at her laptop. She got up as soon as Ann entered. “Hey. Umm, I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got us a few things,” and gestured to the desk, where four or five plates of food sat.

“I’m not that hungry,” Ann said. 

“Oh. Well--” April was interrupted by a bubbly, electronic sound from her laptop. April looked at the screen. “Leslie wants to Skype.” The tone was still ringing.

“OK,” Ann said, and sat down slowly onto the bed, taking April’s place in front of the laptop.

“Ann, there you are. What the hell?” Leslie spat.

Ann frowned gently. “What?” Behind the laptop April’s hands were becoming fists, the knuckles white.

“I’ve sent you like a million e-mails. Look, you’re still getting paid, so if the conference is cancelled you have to actually do work.”

“Oh,” Ann said softly, looking down, unsure of how many days had passed since they had arrived in DC

“No one has heard from you, and…” Leslie trailed off, her tone softening. “Ann?”

“Huh?” Ann said, looking up.

“You look… what’s wrong? Ann, have… have things gotten worse?”

April frowned, searching Ann’s face. Ann looked puzzled, trying to remember the last time she and Leslie talked. It seemed so long ago.

“Ann,” Leslie said again, hesitantly, “Are you OK?”

“Oh,” Ann said, more of a soft sound than a word. She stared just past the laptop, toward the window, caked in white around the outer edges. “I’m fine,” she said distantly.

“Well…” Leslie was at a loss, but then picked up steam: “OK. Then, uh, what the hell is the problem? Ann, I think you know, it costs the Department a lot of money to--”

April spun the laptop around, yanking the screen upward to put her in frame. “Stop, Leslie,” she said with a trembling voice, “you need to stop.”

“April?” Leslie said, and then paused.

April’s hands were shaking at her sides. “I won’t let you talk to her like that.” 

“April, I was just…” Leslie was bewildered. “What’s wrong with her?”

April looked back at Ann, who was watching her with that detached regard. 

“It’s personal,” April said, still holding Ann’s eyes.

“Then how would you know, April?” Leslie asked.

April’s eyes darted back to the screen, and soon were filled with unshed tears. 

“I _know_ ,” April said, her face about to break, and with one hand pushed the laptop shut.

She looked up at Ann, tears ready to spill over, her hands still shaking. Her voice was pleading: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t listen to anyone talk to you like that.”

Ann just frowned, before sitting back against the headboard, pulling her knees up against her body. She stared into space. 

“Hey,” April said, moving to the bed and sitting next to Ann. “It’s gonna be OK. She just didn’t understand.”

Ann nodded. This state was having a curious effect on her life. She was starting to be completely shut off from her best friend.

April put a hesitant hand on Ann’s arm. “If you want to talk about it, I can, umm, I can do that. Or if you just want to sit here….” April’s eyes were searching Ann’s urgently.

But Ann just nodded again, still staring off into space. Slowly, April pushed closer, wrapping her arms around Ann, and Ann found her head slowly drooping onto April’s shoulder. She watched the window from this new angle, the room askew, snow falling sideways behind the glass.

“Do you need to talk? Do you need to, I mean, cry? It’s OK if you do.”

The old Ann would have talked, or cried, or both. Now she just shook her head, the room bobbing from side to side in her vision. “I can’t cry,” she heard herself say. “I can’t do that anymore.”

She felt herself being scooped up deeper into April’s arms, her legs pulled around April’s torso, almost in April’s lap. April clutched her tighter and tighter, until their breathing was labored. 

In the quiet of the room, Ann could hear a breathy whisper from April, the same sound over and over again. It was barely formed, a part of her inhaling and exhaling more than conscious speech. As April held her, finally the pattern became more definite, and Ann understood what April was saying: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann says something important to April.

Eventually Ann lifted her head up and faced April, still in her arms, on the bed. 

“I…” Ann started, slowly. “I know we have to go back to Pawnee. But I don’t know what’s going to happen when they see me like this. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” April reassured her.

“I’m not worried…” Ann murmured. “I know I should care. I can see that it’s going to happen. But I can’t feel any of it. It’s like a movie or something…" she frowned.

April’s eyes watered with fresh tears. She nodded and sniffled, trying to compose herself. “Look, we’re going to get you through this.” April pulled her closer, resting her forehead against Ann’s. 

“I don’t see how…” Ann mumbled, looking down at their bodies entangled together. She didn’t understand why April was treating her this way.

“I know I hurt you so bad…” April announced shakily. She gently lifted Ann’s chin up to meet her gaze, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But look, I’m not going to leave you. Here, in Pawnee, it doesn’t matter. Until you’re better, I’m not leaving your side.” April caressed Ann’s cheek, bringing her closer. Their lips were almost touching.

“I don’t think I’m going to get better,” Ann said tonelessly, trying to figure out if April really believed what she was saying.

April’s thumb gently brushed Ann’s lips. “Hey… I’m the one who gets to be all gloomy, OK?” April smiled. It was so rare to see, and Ann had only the vaguest memory of the last time she saw April smile. April’s nose brushed hers. “You will get better. _I promise_.” 

With that April closed the distance between them and pressed her lips gently against Ann’s. It was the last thing Ann suspected, and as it happened, she wondered why April was doing it. It was so different from that night of drunken kissing. This wasn’t quick or harsh or angry. April was kissing her with a tender attention she didn’t know April possessed. She gently sucked on April’s lower lip, supple and plump between her lips, and a tiny whimper escaped April’s mouth. They kissed again, and again, and then, slowly, April broke the kiss. 

April’s eyes gazed back at hers, hooded with desire -- or a very good imitation of it. And with that, Ann understood.

“April,” she said, “I told you.”

April was still transfixed, looking at Ann’s lips. “Told me what?” she asked vaguely. Ann thought it was a pretty good performance, even for April. 

“This game won’t work on me.”

April’s lip trembled and she shook her head vehemently until her face crumpled as she broke into full sobs.

Ann watched April, amazed that she had almost begun to trust her again, and repeated herself. “I told you. You can’t hurt me anymore.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and April leave the hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version is a little different from how the chapter was initially posted.

“I don’t know what I can _say_ to you,” April said, her voice trembling as she wiped away tears again. “I just want you to believe me…”

Ann just shook her head, looking down, feeling even more used up than she already had been. “I can’t…” Ann mumbled solemnly. “Not after what you did.”

April had to look away. Her voice was so small: “I would _never_ hurt you again.”

Something about the way April said it made Ann think that, for once, she might be seeing something real from April. But, she tried to remind herself, she had thought that so many times before. “But I can’t trust you, April. Maybe you’re telling me the truth right now, but I… I just can’t.”

April sniffed. “I know,” she said, finally defeated. “I know I don’t deserve your trust, anyway.”

For a long time they just stayed like that, listening to the snow pricking against the window. 

April frowned and looked up at Ann. “Maybe I can’t say anything that will get you to trust me.” April reached out and placed her hand on Ann’s. “But maybe I can show you.”

* * * 

That night the snowstorm finally stopped. 

The next day, April asked Ann if she was ready to go back to Pawnee. Ann just shook her head. 

April smiled weakly. “I don’t think I’m ready, either,” she said. 

By that evening, April had cancelled their return tickets.

* * * 

During the next few days, the dirty gray light that had filled their room was replaced by genuine sunlight -- cold, but bright and clear. 

The streets and sidewalks were finally cleared of snow, and when they looked out their window, for the first time they could see the Washington monument, a splinter of white against a pale blue sky.

Ann’s phone rattled against the desk as another text came in. Ann looked away, running her hand through her hair. She wasn’t ready to talk to anyone -- no one but April.

She sensed a warm hand on her arm. “Do you want me to carry it for you?” April asked. It felt like April was asking about more than just the phone. 

She couldn’t trust April, not yet. But this was a start. 

“Please,” she said meekly. 

April reached for the phone and put it into her pocket, slipping her hand into Ann’s to steady it.

* * * 

The next day, April came back to the room with three bags of winter clothes -- sweaters, scarves, mittens. “In case we want to go out,” April said sheepishly.

* * * 

When Ann woke the following morning, she reached over to April tentatively, placing her hand on the strap of the tank top April slept in. April stirred, her eyes opening slowly at first, and then quicker when she saw Ann. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah,” Ann said.

April relaxed.

“I was thinking we could go down to the national mall today,” Ann said. 

April reached up, putting her hand on Ann’s. “OK,” she said, and smiled encouragingly.

* * * 

“Are you sure you’re warm enough?” April asked, adjusting Ann’s scarf for the tenth time since they left the hotel.

“I’m fine,” Ann said. April looked skeptical, but didn’t say anything more.

They walked down the wide sidewalks, surrounded by snow piled up on the large grassy expanses of the Capitol. The stopped at the Lincoln Memorial, their breath visible in the cold air as they looked up at the statue of Lincoln, colossal and impassive in his marble chair. 

Outside of the Memorial the world was lit by bright sunlight, and Ann wished that the cherry blossoms on the banks of the Potomac were in bloom, to give some color to the frozen landscape. 

“We’ll come back sometime in the Spring and see them,” April said. April reached out and took Ann’s hand. April pulled her in, walking with her close, almost as if she was afraid to let go. 

They walked down by the reflecting pool and sat on the barely raised edge of it. “Do you need some coffee to warm you up, or hot cocoa?” April said.

Ann shook her head. “I’m OK,” she said.

April just looked into her eyes, as if willing Ann to know some deeper meaning to what she was asking. “OK,” she said eventually, and huddled close to Ann. They rested there for a long time, watching clouds passing slowly through the inverted mirror of the water, lit from behind by a bleached-white sun.

After a while they got up, and started walking toward the Washington Monument. 

“Do you want to go to the Jefferson Memorial?” April asked, pointing toward the domed structure across the water from them. Ann had lost count of the questions April had asked her in trying to enliven her first trip outside the hotel.

Ann looked toward the memorial. “No,” she said softly. “Jefferson…” she trailed off. 

“Yeah?” April said, squeezing her hand.

“He owned slaves,” she vaguely, watching the sunlight glint off of the circular building in the distance. “You find out that someone you admire is bad person, and it’s hard to look at them the same way again.”

“Yeah,” April swallowed. “Yeah.”

* * * 

When they got back to the hotel, April ordered two big bowls of soup from room service. Ann wasn’t hungry, and tried to tell April. 

“Please?” April said. “You haven’t been out in days. You need this.”

Ann nodded, and ate what she could of the soup. 

“Thank you,” April said, genuine gratitude in her voice as she kissed Ann on the temple.

* * * 

At some point in the night Ann woke up, slowly, opening her eyes to the near-darkness of the room. Beside her April was sitting up against the headboard, her face illuminated by the pale light of her phone. Eventually April rested the phone on her lap, and Ann could see that she was flicking through old photos. Ann watched furtively, her open eyes barely reflecting light in the darkness.

April scrolled through each one leisurely. Pictures of Champion. Ben and Leslie. Selfies that April would never want anyone to see but her. 

April came to a picture of her and Andy, made as if to swipe to the next, but held back. In the picture she and Andy in the foreground -- a huge grin on his face, while she was trying unsuccessfully not to smile. She looked happy. She looked beautiful. 

At first Ann didn’t notice it. In the background, hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it, was Ann. Her hands were busy with a stack of manila folders, but her eyes traced a direct line to April. Ann hadn’t ever seen a picture of her looking at April before. And now she couldn’t help but notice how sad she looked -- eyes melancholy and tired, unwavering from their focus on April. 

Ann looked at the photo for a long time, her eyes moving from April to herself, and back again. She felt a growing cold on the skin of her cheek, and realized that, for the first time in what felt like ages, she was silently crying. 

April kept looking at the picture, just like Ann had. Finally she reached to the top of her phone and turned it off, casting the room in darkness.

Ann waited for April to sink down into the mattress, envelop herself in the blankets, but she didn’t. She just sat there in bed, gaze unfocused, breath slow and steady, unmoving.

After a few minutes, Ann stirred, wiping her hand on her cheek, pretending to wake up. “Hey,” she said.

Immediately April was pulled out of her reverie, turning to devote her attention to Ann. “Hey,” she said, brushing the hair out of Ann’s face. “Can’t sleep?”

“I don’t know why I woke up,” she sniffed.

April slid down into the blanket, face to face with Ann, and in the faint light of the streetlights outside, she could see that Ann’s cheeks were marked with the wide tracks of dried tears.

April reached a hesitant hand out to her, and slowly cupped her cheek. “Hey,” she said tenderly, almost a whisper. “I’m here.”

April’s hand was so warm against her cheek, and Ann nodded, pressing softly into it. 

April watched her for a long time, as if to make sure that she had really been crying, to finally confirm that she was really capable of that again.

“I need to tell you something,” April said quietly. “Even if you don’t believe me…. I need to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

“April--” Ann started.

“Wait,” she murmured, brushing a thumb against Ann’s lips. “I kept wanting to believe that you were… a mess. That you were wrecked and broken. Because if that was true, then I wouldn’t have to be so… confused by you. But I guess it didn’t work. Because I was confused… all the time.”

Ann didn’t fully understand what April was saying, but she could tell that, for April, this was as close as she would ever get to pouring her heart out. “Why are you telling me this?” Ann asked softly.

“Because I owe you an explanation. Even if it doesn’t make anything better. I still owe you that.”

Ann wanted to know why she had confused April, and about what. But instead she asked: “Why now?”

“Because,” April said quietly, swiping her thumb against the cold tracks the tears had left on her cheek, “I needed to tell you when you could feel it.”

Ann just nodded, and now hot fresh tears were slipping down her face. Her lips trembled, and she said, hushed and throatily: “I feel it.”

She reached out a tremulous hand, finding April’s. Without saying anything, they both shifted until Ann was spooning April, her hand hooked around April’s waist, their fingers intertwined.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann has a panic attack.

In Pawnee the office was so loud -- they were all so angry -- “Hey,” the voice said -- coffee spilt on the floor -- they knew -- “Hey, wake up,” April said, pulling her closer, “you’re dreaming. You’re just having a bad dream, Ann.”

The sweat on Ann’s forehead was cold, and she felt herself tremble in April’s arms. 

The bright light of the dream had been replaced by the dark room, but she still felt like she was falling, everything slipping out of her fingers. She gasped, as if she had been holding her breath through the entire dream.

“It’s OK,” April said softly into her ear, April’s cheek pressed against hers. “It’s OK.”

“Don’t do this, don’t do this,” Ann muttered, but April knew she was talking to herself.

“Hey,” April said soothingly, pressing a soft kiss to Ann’s cheek, “What do you need?”

“I have to stop doing this,” Ann said and she gasped another shuddering breath.

“Shh, just breathe,” April said, rubbing a hand on Ann’s back, warm and comforting through the thin fabric of her shirt.

For the next few minutes Ann worked to slow her breathing while April traced slow circles on her back. Ann whimpered, exhausted. “I-- I have panic attacks sometimes.”

April pulled back, her hand resting on the skin just above Ann’s hip, below the hem of her shirt. “I didn’t know,” she said softly. “How… how do you even deal with those alone?”

Ann just shrugged, her breathing still ragged, her heart still pounding. “I had to.”

April reached up to stroke her hair. “Why?”

Ann looked away. "They’re because of…” Her voice got quiet. “They’re about you.”

April’s lip began to tremble.

Ann hushed her, shakily. “It’s OK. Really,” she said.

“Please,” April pleaded, “please let me do something to help.”

Ann swallowed. April needed to help her, and she needed April. “Just until it goes away…”

April nodded expectantly.

“... hold me,” Ann said.

April pulled her in tight, their bodies pressed together, bare legs entwined. April held her, her hand moving underneath the back of her tank top, pressing between her shoulder blades and down her back. They eyes locked, and they watched each other with each stroke of April’s hand, with each shuddering but slowing exhalation of Ann's chest. 

After a while Ann’s eyes were barely open, her features slackened, exhausted. “I think it’s over,” she said. “That… that passed a lot faster than they usually do. You helped me come back.”

April moved her hand to gently stroke Ann’s cheek. Her voice was quiet but steady. “When it gets bad, I will always be here for you. I’ll be your compass,” she said, and pressed her lips to Ann’s in a brief, reassuring gesture, before they both closed their eyes to fall asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April takes care of Ann.

When Ann woke up next to April, she smiled, nuzzling into April's pillow, and squeezed April’s hand. April, still completely asleep, squeezed Ann’s hand back.

* * *

When Ann’s phone rang, April checked it. 

“It’s nothing,” April said. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“You will?” Ann asked, scared that the tremors would start again. 

“I promise, everything will be OK.” 

“Show me,” Ann quietly implored. April didn’t hesitate to kiss Ann softly on the mouth.

* * * 

When Ann didn't want to eat on her own, April was there to make sure she did. “For me,” April asked warmly, tucking Ann’s hair behind her ear.

* * * 

When Ann listened to the sad songs on April’s iPod, she cried. She looked up from under the blankets, finding April watching her carefully. She pulled an earbud out, and without having to say anything, April slid into bed next to her. 

“Everything’s going to be OK,” April said as she settled in close to her.

“Show me,” Ann said, and her breathing steadied only when April kissed her.

* * * 

When they watched a movie in their room, April spent the slow parts kissing Ann’s neck softly, and Ann tried not to shiver. She did anyway.

* * * 

When Ann had asked April to show her, April had kissed her again and again. After a few minutes, April’s hand was on her leg, and April’s tongue brushed against Ann’s lower lip. Ann flinched.

“I’m sorry,” she said, apologizing even as she pushed April away. 

“It’s OK,” April whispered. “I know it's too soon, after what I did.”

Ann nodded. “I just can’t,” she said. 

“I know,” April said, trying to keep a respectful distance.

“But… I still need you. I’m scared to be lost again,” Ann said.

“Still your compass,” April said, gently kissing Ann. 

Ann closed her eyes. “My compass.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April convinces Ann to try something new.

One afternoon they walked six or seven blocks to go to an old movie theater. The seats were old, covered with red velvet and frayed on the armrests. The movie was some low budget slasher movie that April wanted to see, and when it began there was no one else in the theater. 

Ann could see why -- even only 20 minutes into it, the movie wasn’t very good. There had been only one good scare -- which had made her reach out for April’s hand, warm and soft in the dark of the theater. 

April turned to her, stroking a thumb across Ann’s fingers. “So… this movie is pretty lame I guess. Sorry.”

“At least we have the place to ourselves,” Ann said, her eyes falling hesitantly on April’s lips.

“We don’t have to stay. I mean, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” April said carefully, watching for a reaction in Ann’s eyes.

“I know,” Ann said, squeezing April’s hand. “But I want to stay here.”

“You do?” April whispered, inching closer to Ann.

Ann’s eyes began to close as her nose brushed April’s. “Yes,” she said, almost inaudible against the dialogue of the movie they had both forgotten.

Their lips met, and again Ann felt the reassurance that she had come to need so desperately from April -- the ground was no longer shifting, the wind no longer pushed her this way and that.

April cupped Ann’s face, turning her head to press her lips fully against Ann’s. 

Ann unclasped her hand from April’s, finding her leg by feel and squeezing April’s thigh. April made a small, desperate sound, and as her mouth opened Ann slowly deepened the kiss. Ann could feel April’s hand on her side, moving up and down, April’s thumb rubbing circles against her rib and then the side of her breast. Ann moaned, her hand coming up to cup the back of April’s head, pulling her in, kissing her deeper, April’s tongue silky and warm against hers as it entered her mouth.

The words cut through the noise of the movie and the soft sounds of their kissing. 

Ann broke their kiss, her voice laced with panic: “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything,” April said, “I couldn’t, we were kissing. Hey, what’s wrong?” April reached out to Ann.

Ann flinched away and shook her head. “I… I know, you couldn’t have said it. But the words…”

April’s face was all trepidation. “What were the words?”

Ann clutched herself. She had thought these thoughts were over, but they obviously weren’t. She murmured, almost to herself: “I heard you say… I heard you say, ‘I know you haven't forgotten that I'm married.’”

April shook her head, confused. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t--” she stopped.

Ann picked at the frayed edges of the velvet upholstery. “You didn’t say that… _today_.”

April nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She looked up at Ann, forlorn and needy. “You’re never going to trust me, are you?”

Ann pulled April into her arms, April’s forehead resting against her neck and shoulder as she sniffed. “I will -- I mean, I do. But when we do that, something inside me just… triggers.”

April just cried, her tears soaking through the fabric of Ann’s shirt.

“I’m trying to get better. I want to get better. I just…” 

“You just need to do this on your own terms,” April murmured into Ann’s neck.

Ann nodded, trying to keep her own tears from falling. 

April shakily righted herself and took Ann’s hands in hers. “Do you trust me enough to try something?”

Ann gently stroked Apri’s wrist with her thumb, and although she could no longer predict how her mind would react, she nodded. “I trust you,” she said.

* * *

Ann’s bare feet absorbed cold slowly from the bathroom tiles, and April turned on the shower. Ann watched April carefully, still not sure what April had planned -- still not sure she could do what April wanted.

April gently fingered the hem of Ann’s shirt. Ann shivered. “Hey,” April said softly, “We don’t have to do this.”

Ann gulped. “I trust you.”

April nodded, and gently kissed Ann on the cheek. Ann drew enough strength from the kiss to nod. The bathroom began to fill with hot steam.

April moved behind Ann, softly urging her arms up while she pulled Ann’s shirt over her head. While April undressed her, Ann watched fog slowly spread over the glass of the shower. 

Her skirt was inched down her legs, until it pooled at her feet. Ann felt April unclasp her bra, and April pulled it forward, off of her shoulders. Ann braced herself on the shower door; the panic wasn’t here yet, but she could feel it pushing at the edges of her consciousness.

Beside her, April was down on her knees, careful to avoid looking at Ann’s breasts. She hooked a finger into each side of Ann’s panties. April was at eye level with Ann’s panties, inches away from Ann’s skin. But she kept her eyes demurely averted as she gingerly pulled Ann’s panties down, off her hips, past her knees. Ann carefully stepped out of them, first one leg and then another. 

April stood, keeping her eyes locked with Ann’s. She bit her lip. “I want to get in with you,” she said.

Ann’s heartbeat quickened, and she nodded. 

“OK,” April said softly. “You first.”

Ann entered the hot downpour, cold tile replaced with warm porcelain, and braced herself with a hand on either side of the showerhead. Her head hung down, the water cascading onto her neck, down her shoulders and back, relaxation spreading through her body. 

She felt a soft, wet hand on her back, but didn’t look behind her. She felt April pour body wash between her shoulder blades, and April began to lather her back slowly, treating it like massage oil as she rubbed Ann back up and down, tracing her exhausted muscles.

Every motion of April’s hand was pure comfort to her, and she started to wonder if she could fall asleep standing up, under the hot water of the shower and April’s hands.

Eventually April stopped, and slowly traced her palm from Ann’s back to her shoulder, then her arm, and finally slid it on top of Ann’s hand. April gently pulled Ann’s hand from the shower wall and onto Ann’s own hip, and then softly pressed Ann’s fingers lower and lower, until they found Ann’s clit.

Ann inhaled quickly, opening her eyes. 

April whispered, breathy and wanting, into Ann’s ear. “Please. For me.”

More than anything, Ann wanted to April to stay with her, and to be happy. Ann nodded, and began to touch herself.

Every time she had kissed April, every time she woke up next to her, she had seen the color in the world like remembering a smell from childhood. It was so vivid, so fast, and then it was over, as soon as April’s lips left hers. But now, touching herself, her clit and fingers hot and wet, with April’s naked body unseen but so close, the world was coming alive again. Ann breathed out a subtle gasp as she realized how strongly her body was responding. 

It had been so long -- so long -- since her body had responded like this. She thought back to all the times, in the months before, when she had laid in bed, thinking of April, doing this. She had tried to stop -- she really had. Every night she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. And when she did touch herself, she tried to think of someone -- anyone -- else. But after a few days she would always end up in bed, her fingers against her clit, imagining what it would be like if April’s bare skin was beneath her. No matter how many times she tried not to, no matter how hard she tried not to, she would always come. And almost as soon as her orgasm had begun, and through the aftermath, she would think about loss -- about how far and indifferent April would be from her, always.

But now, in the heat of the shower, April’s hand rested against her hip, and she felt no loss. She felt at home and wanted, and deep within her she could feel an orgasm building.

She turned around slowly, still stroking her clit, amazed that she could feel an impending orgasm already, even as she was standing up. Hey eyes met April. April looked back at her, her brown eyes filled with compassion, asking with a look: What do you need?

Ann licked her lips, still touching herself, looked at April imploringly and nodded. April moved closer, the water from the shower hitting her chest and shoulders. Ann watched the water pour onto April’s hair, framing her face against stark glossy black. Ann traced the path of the water with her eyes, moving down the tips of her hair, cascading down her shoulders, past her collar bones, and onto April’s breasts. The rivulet hugged the arc of her breast before curving down to April’s belly button, across her hipbone, and down her thigh. Ann was close now.

Ann clasped April’s side with her spare hand, and moved it down to April’s hip, her thumb swiping over April’s slick hipbones. She pulled them closer, and as their breasts and stomachs touched, the feeling of April’s wet skin against hers was electric. April wrapped both her arms around Ann, pushing their bodies together even as Ann’s hand moved up and down between them, against her clit.

“April,” Ann breathed out desperately. 

April pulled her even closer, whispering assuredly into her ear, “I’m here. I’m here.”

Ann began to come. It had been so long since Ann had come that she was completely overwhelmed with the feeling, pushing conscious thought into the edges of her mind. April held her through the orgasm, wet skin against wet skin, as Ann shuddered and murmured. For once the sensation wasn't admixed with mourning -- April was here, really here, and Ann could only feel the pure pleasure of her body vibrating through her orgasm, the water of the hot shower drenching both of them together. April held her close, their bodies pressed fast together, until Ann slowly quieted. 

Ann was still too overcome by her orgasm to think anything coherent, and so she could only half register the words April whispered into her ear with immense, loving gratitude: “ _Thank you_.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April realizes that her work is done.

When Ann woke up, the first thing she saw in the bright morning light was April in bed next to her, watching her. She looked like she had been watching Ann for a long, long time.

“Hey,” April said, her voice a little distant, a little sad, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Ann’s ear. 

“Hey,” Ann said warmly, and pushed closer to April. 

“Was last night…?” April said, her eyes troubled.

Ann smiled. “After the shower, when you just held me until I fell asleep…” Ann shook her head, unable to believe that what she had wanted for so long had finally happened. She traced her finger up and down April’s arm. “It was perfect.”

April spoke, her voice trembling: “Listen, we, umm… we have to go back to Pawnee.”

A few days ago that sentence would have brought on a panic attack. But Ann just nodded, and found April’s hand with her own. She smiled at April. “I think I’m ready.”

“Good,” April said, but she didn’t meet Ann’s eyes.

“Hey,” Ann said, reaching her hand out to April’s cheek. “Let’s make the most of our time left here.” Ann pulled April in close and kissed her.

April kissed her back, slowly, her breath coming in shuddering bursts before she tore her own trembling lips away from Ann’s.

“I can’t. We-- we shouldn’t.”

“April--”

April got out of bed like it was too painful to stay a second longer, pulling the sheet around her. “I had to make things right. That’s all I can do.”

“Hey,” Ann said steadily, trying to calm April, trying to calm her own racing thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

April just shook her head, crossing her arms protectively. “I fucked up, OK?” she said pleadingly. “And when you do what I did, we can’t just kiss like I didn’t do it. We can’t just…” April trailed off.

Ann reached out a hand to April. “But I _want_ to kiss you.”

April pushed her hand away. “That’s the problem. You’ve forgiven me, and--” April was trying hard not to choke up. “And that just shows that I don’t deserve to be kissed by you. I don’t deserve _you_. Not after what I did to you.”

Ann couldn’t see why April wouldn’t be with her. “April,” she said, trying to get her to see that they should be together. “How long did you watch me sleep this morning?”

April shrugged, staring at the floor, pulling the sheet around her bare shoulders. “I don’t know. A couple of hours.”

 _Then you must feel what I feel_ , Ann thought. “So what were you doing?” Ann asked softly.

April looked up from the floor to meet Ann’s gaze, and the dull sadness in her eyes told Ann she felt everything, but that it just didn’t matter. “I was saying goodbye.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How things are now.

Ann was still in denial until they got to the DC airport, their hotel room left behind and their bags at their sides. They would sit together on the plane, but after that, as soon as they got back to Pawnee, they would go their separate ways. She would only see April at work, because April would go home to her husband; and she would sleep by herself and try to remember what it felt like for April to be next to her, only to have the memory dissipate into the reality of a cold, lonesome bed.

When the flight attendant was coming by, Ann asked April, “Do you want me to get you a drink?” They hadn’t spoken all morning and it was killing Ann. 

April swallowed, glancing at Ann before looking away. “No, I… I shouldn’t.”

“I’m buying,” Ann said with forced lightness.

April kept her gaze downcast. “I shouldn’t drink around you. I don’t trust myself. Not anymore.” She turned away from Ann to look out the window, the corner of her forehead resting against the plastic interior.

Sitting next to April in that cramped airplane, Ann didn’t think she could possibly feel more alone.

* * * 

After they deboarded and took the bus to Pawnee, they were waiting for the bus at what looked like an abandoned stop, on the side of town Ann had never seen before. The bus was ten minutes late.

April hugged herself like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “I’m just gonna walk,” April said suddenly.

She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Ann said. April paused.

For a second Ann didn’t know what to say. All she had was the futile hope that April would change her mind.

“Can I hug you goodbye, at least?” Ann said.

April just stared at her feet against the rough concrete. “I think we should just try to go back to the way things were. Before I… before all this.” 

Ann wanted to say that she didn’t want things to go back to the way they were before; Ann wanted to say that all she wanted was for April to come with her, to her house, to her bed. But she was paralyzed, and in the pause, April turned and walked away. Back to the way things were.

* * * 

Only they couldn’t go back to the way things were, not really. When they went back to the office the next day, everyone expected them to be at each other’s throats. Or best friends, as Leslie hoped and imagined. But instead Ann kept to herself, and didn’t leave her own office unless she had to, and when April saw her, there were no cutting remarks, only sad averted eyes.

* * * 

Every night Leslie wanted to talk about the trip, and every night Ann made up some excuse. Twice Leslie showed up at Ann’s place, and Ann pretended not to be home, hunkering in the bedroom below the window in case Leslie looked in, listening as the knocks echoed throughout the quiet stillness of the house.

* * * 

Even though she didn't mean to, Ann saw April every day at work at least once -- in the office, in the hall. Once they shared an elevator, unable to find any plausible excuse out of it. In the midst of the quiet whirring of the gears, Ann watched April from the reflection of the stainless steel doors. April’s eyes had the same haunted sadness that they’d had since that morning. All Ann could think about was taking April’s hand and leading her to their home, and every time the same thought followed -- April would pull her hand back, and run, far away, to her husband.

* * * 

When Ann was leaving work late, after she thought everyone had gone home, she heard Andy talking to Ben in the main office. She stopped outside the door.

“I just don’t get what I did,” Andy said. 

“Are you sure it’s something you did?” Ben asked tentatively.

“It’s gotta be, right? Look, all I know is that even when she’s with me, she’s…”

“...not really there?” Ben filled in.

“Yeah,” Andy said. “How’d you know?”

Ben paused, and Ann imagined that he was shrugging, and then said simply: “A lot of people have noticed that about April lately."

* * * 

Once, at the Snakehole, she saw April drinking by herself. There was no Janet Snakehole outfit, and Andy was nowhere to be found. As the bass echoed throughout the club, April sat alone. Ann gulped and tensely made her way over.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” April said, and took a long swig from her drink.

After a few minutes, April said, “I should go home.” There was something incredibly sad in her voice. 

“You don’t want to stay?” Ann asked.

“That's where my husband is,” April said. It sounded like she had given up.

“April--”

“He didn’t do anything _wrong_ ,” April said quickly, pleading with her to understand. In that split second Ann could see tears welling up in April’s eyes, and then April was hurrying out. That was when Ann realized that April had always hated so much about the world, but until now, she had never hated herself.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and April come to a new arrangement.

When Ann knocked on April’s door, it was nearly nightfall. 

When door opened, April was standing there in a tank top and sweats. “What do you want?”

“Can we talk?” Ann asked, rubbing her sweaty palms on her legs.

April was about to say something, but stopped herself. She looked down. “Whatever.”

April’s house was quiet. “Andy’s practicing with Mouserat,” she volunteered. Dishes were stacked on the counter next to the sink. Something on the TV was paused, and there was a bottle of vodka next to the margarita mix on the table. 

“Look,” Ann started to pace, “I know that you chose Andy. And--”

“What do you mean?” April crossed her arms.

Ann stopped in her tracks. “Well… you chose Andy. You chose him over…”

“Well yeah. I chose him.”

“I know.”

April steadied her gaze, and there was something in her voice that told Ann she had practiced this before. “Of course I chose him. I'm straight.”

Ann felt like she had just lost something of herself. She thought back to those night sleeping next to April. April’s hand in hers; how they would stay close even when the were just watching a movie; falling asleep in April’s arms. Those things were _real_. She wanted to say, so desperately: “They all happened.”

But instead she pushed all of that down. “I know,” she said, even though the words felt like swallowing poison. “I know you’re straight. I’m here because I want to be your _friend_.”

April kept her arms crossed tight, eyes hard and gaze blistering. 

“Can you at least be my friend?” Ann asked quietly. 

For a long time, the silence in the room permeated everything. For a long time, Ann wondered what it would feel like to pack her things tonight and leave by morning.

But April was at loose ends, and just nodded. “You can’t ask me about how things are with Andy,” she said, not meeting Ann’s eyes. 

“OK.”

She shifted to her other foot. “And we have to just be friends. You can’t kiss me…”

“OK,” Ann said.

“...on the lips.”

“OK. Those are the rules.”

April looked up at Ann. “OK,” she said. 

Ann smiled sadly. God, she wanted to pull April into her arms and kiss her and make love to her. But here April was standing far away from her in this lonely room, and she knew she would have to stop living in that fantasy. She knew she would have to settle for less. It ached like a crushed, shattered bone deep inside her -- but it was no less than what anyone, anywhere, had to do. This was all anyone got, anyway. For her, that sacrifice was friendship -- completely untarnished.

Ann smiled weakly at April. “I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure,” April said, trying to act casual as she picked at the hem of her shirt.

“I’m glad we’re friends,” Ann said, smiling at April as she turned to leave. She was almost out the door when April spoke up.

“One more rule,” April said, fidgeting. “You don’t tell me about your relationship stuff. I don’t want to hear it.”

Ann thought quickly that she wouldn’t have any relationships. Not while April Ludgate was in her life, not matter if she was her girlfriend, friend, or even enemy. Long before she would have anyone as a partner or spouse, she would have April Ludgate as an enemy.

Ann smiled as she began to close the door. “It's a rule,” Ann said, and April looked sad and relieved all at once.

Ann thought that there were a million reasons why April might not want to hear that. But all of her hope coalesced upon one: April wanted to keep believing that Ann last fell asleep in her arms -- no one else's.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and April try out their new arrangement.

Ann was balancing a million things in her head, everything a blur, when she heard the doorbell ring. She put the beer into the fridge and fixed her hair with a jittery hand, and opened the door. She could hide this nervousness. 

“Hey,” April said, biting her lip.

“Hey,” Ann said a little too loudly. She winced for a second. Obviously she was still tuning up. “I got the movie.”

“Which one?” April said as she put her bag down by the door.

“ _Uptown Girls_ ,” Ann said over her shoulder as she went to get the drinks.

“What?” April stopped in her tracks.

Ann turned around and playfully bumped April’s shoulder. “I’m kidding. I got the first one of the Saw movies.” April had said that she wouldn’t come over unless Ann rented a movie from that series.

April relaxed, and began to smile. “You’re kind of mean, you know that?”

Now she was on track. Ann rolled her eyes: “Please. You’re mean for making me watch this. You’re going to have to tell me when to cover my eyes.”

“Whatever,” April said. “Get the popcorn.”

Ann busied herself in the kitchen, and while the microwave ran she thought to herself: _This is normal. This is how friends are. You can do this._

* * * 

Half an hour into the movie, Ann turned to April on the couch and had to bury her head in April’s neck to avoid watching it. That was the moment when all of Ann’s carefully cultivated self-control vanished.

Suddenly Ann was aware of how close they were; the warmth of April’s body, the smell of her hair, the feel of April’s arm hooked around her, holding her close. The sound from the movie faded out, and all she could hear was her own breath, hot against the crook of April’s neck. 

“It’s over,” Ann heard softly, and April found Ann’s chin and gently pulled her head up. April’s eyes flicked down to Ann’s lips and back up again. Ann licked her lips, and began to close the distance between the two of them, and as soon as she did, knew that she had screwed up, and done the exact thing she had tried not to do.

“I should go,” April said, standing up abruptly.

“I--” Ann started. April could only stay here if they followed the rules, and Ann had just broken them. Keeping April in her life was a desperate balancing act, and she had been careless.

“It’s OK. I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” April said, and closed the front door behind her. The movie played on, unwatched.

* * * 

It was a week before Ann could get April to come back to her place. For days she had practiced what she was going to say:

_I know it’s asking a lot for you to be my friend. You told me what the rules were and I fucked it up right away. I hate that I put you in that position, because I know you would never do anything to hurt Andy. But I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to just be your friend. I promise._

She could justify saying all of the words, but there was a part of her, which hoped that the speech would let April know something she couldn’t say -- something she desperately needed April to know: _I care about you more than anyone._

* * *

When she heard the knock, Ann inhaled deeply and opened the door, ready to start her speech. But April was standing there, shifting weight from one foot to another, her eyes darting from Ann’s face and then away, holding her arm across her chest. April couldn’t hear any of that; even now, she was on the verge of bolting. 

All Ann said was, “Come on in.” If April knew how much Ann cared for her, _how_ Ann cared for her, then she would know that Ann couldn’t just want to be friends. She would leave, and the worst part is, she would have every right. 

Ann was going to have to live with April not knowing.

* * * 

This time when they sat on the couch, Ann kept a respectful distance. The movie came on, and she spent the first ten minutes really trying to watch it, instead of just watching April. 

That was when she felt April’s warm hand slide into hers. Surprised, she turned to April.

“Friends hold hands,” April said, her voice a little uneven as she forced a shrug. 

Ann nodded quickly, and whispered a breathless, “Yeah.”

April squeezed her hand, her thumb brushing against Ann’s wrist. Ann’s pulse picked up. 

Maybe the rules were more flexible than she thought.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're friends -- they're just friends.

**Morning**. Ann checked her phone to see April’s text, and with her spare hand rubbed the sleep from her eyes. 

A couple weeks ago they began this ritual. Even though they would see each other at work in an hour and a half, they always texted as soon as they woke up. Ann would either wake up to a text from April, or send her one. Either way, every day April was the first thing she thought of.

 **Morning** she typed back. 

* * * 

That day they ate lunch together in Ann’s office, like they always did. 

“There’s supposed to be a meteor shower next week on Monday,” Ann said between bites of her salad. “You want to go out to the country to watch it?”

“Yeah,” April nodded, and looked at Ann deviously. “Can I come up with new names for the constellations based on illegal sex acts?”

Ann smiled, “Of course, your commentary is the best part.” For a second she just beamed at April.

April watched her for a second. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I dunno,” April said. “You just seem… happy, I guess? Like you're excited about the future.”

Ann thought about the meteor shower coming up, and watching _Scandal_ on Thursday, and texting April goodnight as she falls asleep. “Yeah.” Ann reached out to cup April’s cheek. “I guess I am.”

The door opened and Ann yanked her hand away, running it through her hair nervously. It was Andy.

“Hey, I thought I’d find you here,” he said to April, and turned to Ann, “Hey Ann.”

“What’s up?” April said, inching further away from Ann almost imperceptibly.

“Oh man, so Burly called and he just booked a gig on Monday; I thought you could hear that new song I wrote?”

April shrugged. “Ann and I have plans then.” 

“Oh,” Andy said, crestfallen. “Yeah, sorry. I guess some other time, then?”

“Yeah,” April said, looking at the corner of the desk instead of Andy. “We’ll do it some other time.”

Ann was watching April intently when the door clicked shut. “Hey, we don’t have to go to the meteor shower. You can go to the show.”

April looked up at Ann, barely suppressing a tremor though her whole body. “No, it’s OK.”

“Are you sure?” Ann glanced back at the door, starting to feel a little sick.

“I’m sure. I…” April started, and reached out to take Ann’s hand in hers. Her voice was small. “I really need my friend right now.”

* * * 

At the end of the week meeting, Ann and April always sat together. This time, while everyone was listening to Donna’s presentation about how to use social media to promote the parks facilities, Ann reached for April’s hand. Neither of them broke their gaze on Donna’s Powerpoint, but under the table their fingers threaded together. Ann’s heart began to race as she looked through her peripheral vision to check if Andy could see them. He couldn’t. April traced her thumb around Ann’s wrist, like she always did when they watched TV. 

* * * 

Ann was in the Parks office a little early for the meeting, watching videos on April’s computer with her, when the tall, dark-haired man from the Department of Health and Human Services stopped by to give her some paperwork. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t just put it through the building’s mail service. He looked familiar -- perhaps she had seen him around before.

“I’m Oliver, by the way,” he said as he gave her the files. 

“Ann, Ann Perkins,” she introduced herself.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, smiled, and left.

Ann was looking over the paperwork when she felt a hand pull her by the elbow. April led her into the empty conference room and closed the door.

“Do you know him?” she said, her voice faltering.

“No,” Ann shook her head. “This was the first time I talked to him. Why, do you know him?”

“No,” April said, wrapping her arms around herself. 

Ann cocked her head, trying to find out what was bothering April so much.

April clenched her jaw and looked at Ann. “Don’t date him,” she said. “Please.”

“April,” Ann reached out for her, “I don’t even know him.”

“OK, but just… just say you won’t date him.”

Ann nodded. “I won’t date him,” she said, and brought April into a hug.

April clutched her so tight. “Promise?” she whispered breathily into her ear.

“I promise,” Ann said, and it was the most natural thing in the world. “April, I -- I won’t date anyone. I promise you. Not anyone.” 

April’s grip on her relaxed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

When they parted, Leslie opened the door to the conference room, and the rest of the department followed. Leslie began the meeting, and Ann and April sat next to each other. Under the conference table, Ann was about to reach for April. But this time she felt April’s hand on her knee, her thumb moving softly up Ann’s thigh and just under the hem of her skirt. She gently squeezed Ann’s thigh, letting her know in a single gesture what she meant: Ann was her best friend, and she wasn't going to share her with anyone else.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk, but they don't.

When they sat down on the couch to watch _Scandal_ , they each had a margarita that April had made.

“That’s strong,” Ann said as she pushed play.

April shrugged, and nestled into Ann’s side, resting her head on Ann’s shoulder. April exhaled, and slid her arm around Ann’s waist to bring her in closer.

Ann reached around and began stroking April’s hair, slowly, methodically. 

Usually she and April talked about the show as they watched it, but this time April was silent, moving only to take sips of her margarita. Fifteen minutes into the episode, she finished it, and drank out of Ann’s.

Ann turned her head, the corner of her lips pressing against April’s forehead. “You OK?” she asked.

April shrugged, and downed the last of Ann’s drink.

“You gonna be able to drive home after all that?” Ann asked quietly.

“Maybe I don’t want to go home.”

Ann just nodded, and got up to go to her closet. She came back with pajamas, neatly folded, and put them in April’s lap. “There’s an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom.” Ann had put it out a week ago. 

That was how Ann and April started sleeping in the same bed.

* * *

The next time they watched _Scandal_ , it had been a week since April had gone home.

Ann didn’t mention it, and neither did April. Every day brought them closer, but there was some lines that both of them knew not to cross.

* * *

One night Ann woke up to April crying in her sleep. Maybe they should talk about this, Ann thought. April was pressing down all of her thoughts into her subconscious, leaving it to come out in her dreams. 

Ann slid over in bed and curled her arm around April’s shuddering shoulders, hushing her. April tensed as she woke. She looked around to find Ann, and wrapped Ann in her arms and legs. 

“I’m here,” Ann whispered as she held April closer, stroking April’s hair with her free hand, their boxers riding up on their bare thighs. 

April sniffed. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand, darling?” Ann said softly. 

“Why I feel like I’ve cheated on him. I _haven’t_.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Ann said, despite the heavy feeling in her chest.

“You’re my friend,” April said. She removed her head from the crook of Ann’s neck, and gently kissed her on the cheek. She turned her head, their noses almost touching, her eyes unfocused. Her hand was moving up Ann’s thigh. “You’re my best friend.”

“Darling, you’re my best friend,” Ann said tenderly, pulling April even closer, their hips pressed together flush.

As if with great effort, April turned her lips away from Ann’s, and buried her head into Ann’s neck again. “I’m straight,” she murmured, her hand moving up Ann’s back, underneath her nightshirt.

Ann held her, April practically on top of her while she stroked April’s hair.

“I know you are,” Ann said. And in that moment she really did, because it was better if they both believed it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April makes something clear.

The next day at work, Ann stopped by April’s desk to drop off some paperwork which didn’t matter, but gave her an excuse to see her. Ann idly rearranged the pens on April’s desk while April complained about the Pawneean who had come in to request yet another Sweetum’s concession stand in Ramset park.

At least she did until they were interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

“Ms. Perkins,” the man in the gray suit said.

Ann turned around. “Me?”

“Oliver. We met the other day.” He confidently ran a hand through his dark hair, his brown eyes staying firmly fixed on Ann.

From the corner of her eye, Ann could see April glaring at him.

“Oh, yeah,” Ann said. “Hello.” She shifted uncomfortably to her other foot. She just wanted him to leave so she could be alone with April again.

“So listen, I’m putting together a task force on flu transmission, and I thought you might want to be on it. I’ve heard you’re a team player.” He smiled. It was the kind of smile which indicated that he usually got what he wanted.

“Sorry, I’m pretty busy. But thanks.”

He nodded for a second. “Well, OK. Let me know if you change your mind.” He smiled again, walking backwards for a couple of steps before breaking eye contact, turning around, and leaving.

Ann slumped, not realizing how anxious his presence had made her. April got up and put a tense hand on Ann’s back to usher her out, whispering angrily as she did so, “What the hell is that guy’s problem?”

Ann, unsure of where April was taking her, shook her head. She wished he would just leave her alone. “I guess he can’t take a hint.”

April had led them to the end of the hallway, in front of the elevator and the supply closet. She pushed her way into the closet and pulled Ann in behind her before shutting the door.

It was nearly dark in the closet, but Ann could see April’s clenched fists. “Hey, sweetie,” Ann said, bringing up a hand to cup April’s cheek. “It’s okay.”

April shook her head vehemently. “It’s not OK. He thinks he has a shot at being with you.”

“He doesn’t,” Ann said, placing her hands on April’s shoulders, trying to calm her.

“I know that, but he doesn’t know that. He needs to, Ann. He needs to know you’re not his.”

With that, April swung Ann around and pressed her hard up against the wall between the shelves of office supplies, and immediately began kissing her neck. It felt so unbelievably good that for a second Ann could hardly open her eyes. She couldn't help but let out a muffled moan.

April was concentrating on a single spot on Ann’s neck, and it was driving her crazy. April kept sucking, harder and harder. “April,” she whispered hoarsely. Ann’s hand slid down quick to April’s ass, using it to pull her hard against her, whimpering as their hips touched and she squeezed April’s ass.

April released her lips from Ann’s neck, eliciting a small moan of protest from Ann, and her hand fumbled for the lightswitch. Ann, still braced against the wall, absently touched her neck, feeling the hot bruise that April had left there.

April took a step back, her focus intense as she examined Ann’s hickey in the light. “Now he’ll know you don’t belong to him.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann sees something beautiful.

That night, after April and Ann had brushed their teeth and changed into their sleeping clothes, they got into bed, and in the soft light of the bedside lamp April looked at Ann’s hickey.

April snuggled into Ann’s side, leaving her arm across Ann’s waist while she rested her head against her shoulder. 

“Goodnight,” she said to Ann sleepily, leaned over, and kissed the hickey languorously, tracing its borders with her lips. 

* * *

In the morning Ann was going through her closet, wearing only a tank top and panties. 

“Hey,” she heard behind her.

She turned around to see April stretching in bed, looking Ann up and down.

“Hey. Sorry; deciding on an outfit.”

“Why don’t you wear that blue skirt?” April said after a yawn.

“This one?” Ann asked incredulously as she grabbed it from the closet and held it up to her hips. “It’s a little short for work, don’t you think?” It barely went halfway down her thigh.

April just stared for a second, and said: “This skirt. Definitely this skirt.”

* * * 

In the car ride over, Ann noticed April looking at her legs. “Oh God,” she said, pulling the hem of her skirt down as she braked at the light, “Is this too short?”

April just shook her head, unable to look away from Ann’s legs. She placed her hand on Ann’s knee, and licked her lips.

By the time they got to work, April’s hand had made its way nearly all the way up Ann’s thigh.

* * *

That night, when they went to bed, Ann wore nothing but the tank top and panties she started the day with. When April followed suit, she stripped off her tight black jeans, leaving only her shirt and the panties riding low on her hips. In bed, their legs touched, and April closed her eyes hard, as if to stop something. 

Ann hesitatingly put her hand on April’s thigh, whispering, “You’re my best friend” as she kissed her on the cheek. April bit her lip, her legs spreading between Ann’s fingers, and when she opened her eyes she had the look of someone who was about to throw her down and ravage her. 

April clenched her teeth and turned her head away. “We need to just sleep,” she said, as if it was a mantra. “We just need to sleep.” 

Ann didn’t know what April was denying herself, but she knew that April was nearing the limit of her frustration and self control.

* * *

When Ann woke up she thought April was having another bad dream, like she did the night she was crying in her sleep. But after a second she could feel that the motions April was making, the noises Ann heard, were not crying. April’s arm moved up and down as she touched herself.

At first Ann froze. She wanted to pretend that she hadn’t woken up, so that April wasn’t embarrassed. But after a second she realized something. The sleepy movements, the way April’s elbow casually grazed Ann’s waist, the fact that April’s eyes were lightly closed.

April was completely asleep, and she was touching herself.

For a moment Ann just watched April, her hand moving up and down under the thin cotton sheet, her mouth slightly open and her breathing just barely uneven. All of a sudden, Ann desperately wanted to shed the sheets, and let out the heat that was beginning to envelop her body.

Ann knew that if she got up she would wake up April, and she resolved to close her eyes and try to go back to sleep. She took one last look at April’s face as she touched herself, her nose and curved lips silhouetted in the faint glow of the streetlight. 

That was when April’s forehead furrowed, and her back arched slightly against the bed. April’s voice was soft, and sleepy, but unmistakable when she whimpered out: “ _Ann_.”

Her back collapsed against the mattress, her mouth opened wider, and she exhaled a long breathy moan as she came.

It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Ann had ever seen.

As April’s orgasm crested, Ann slid over next to her urgently, pulling her into her arms. “Mm,” April softly moaned, her breath still quivering with the orgasm, as she pulled her hand out of her panties to rest it on Ann’s lower back. Ann pressed every inch of her against April, her hands raking up April’s side, pulling skin and thin cotton closer. She whispered into April’s ear: “Darling,” she cooed, “I’m here. I’m here.” She nuzzled her, feeling April’s pulse pounding in her neck, stroking April’s hair. April quieted as her orgasm slowly faded, her body trembling only a little as she relaxed, finally home in Ann’s arms.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann pretends.

The next morning, the sun rose slowly. Ann laid in bed for half an hour, running her hand up and down April’s back as she slept, her breath pacing Ann’s hand. 

As Ann watched the ceiling, she thought of the hickey on her neck and the peace on April’s face after she came. But mostly she pretended.

She pretended that April had lived with her for so long that she had lost count of the nights they spent in their bed. She pretended that everyone knew that she and April were together; people would talk about them like one of those couples that everyone knows is meant to be together. She pretended that when she woke up, April would hold her face, kiss her lips, and whisper into her ear that she was happy.

The morning light grew brighter, and Ann felt along the bedside table for April’s phone. She typed in the password and turned off the alarm, which would be going off in five minutes. She would wake her up herself.

Five minutes passed, and she just kept rubbing April’s back. She pretended a little longer. Fifteen minutes passed, silent and still in the bedroom. She looked at April ruefully. 

This quiet, this time, would end.

But Ann gained strength from knowing that she could pretend again tonight, after April fell asleep. She could pretend that April falling asleep in her bed meant what she needed it to. 

She kissed April’s temple. “Hey, it’s time to wake up,” she said softly, not quite to her.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April asks her to do something.

When they were about to leave the house, Ann stopped her by the front door. “Umm,” she said, “It’s fading.” 

April nodded, and just as Ann had hoped, she pushed her up against the wall and found the other side of her neck, and brushed her lips against it. She began to suck, soft at first, and then harder and harder. Ann’s free hand clasped April’s head, pushing her lips harder against her neck. Ann could feel April’s teeth nip her skin before she finally pulled away. 

April looked at her handiwork, brushing her sleeve against Ann’s hickey. Her hand was on Ann’s thigh. 

“Thanks,” Ann said, flashing a small smile, and opened the door.

“OK,” she said. 

* * * 

In the car, Ann could tell April was distracted. 

“You OK?” she asked.

April looked up from Ann’s legs, a little taken aback. “Yeah... “ She paused, and her eyes wandered down again. “You’re wearing the skirt again.”

Ann had hoped April would notice. “Is it… OK?”

April nodded quickly. “It’s good. You look…” she said, mouth slightly open, still unable to take her eyes off of Ann’s legs, “good.” 

As she drove, all Ann could think about was how badly to see April’s face again when she came.

* * * 

At the meeting, before Leslie had even finished stating the agenda, Ann put April’s hand halfway up her thigh.

* * * 

On the way home, at a stop light, Ann got April to touch up her hickey. Ann let her hand, on the way to April’s hip, brush her the side of her breast. The harder April sucked on her neck, the harder Ann squeezed April’s waist. April’s hand were busy with something else; her fingers were twisting against each other for some reason, but Ann was lost in the sensation of April’s lips against her neck. 

It took three cars honking behind them to realize that the light had turned green.

* * * 

When they got back to Ann’s house, Ann finally couldn’t stand it anymore, and pushed April against the wall, her hand moving from April’s hip to her ass as she squeezed. April’s eyes closed as Ann’s body pressed against hers.

“Is this OK?” Ann asked breathily as her hand moved down lower, to the back of April’s thigh. 

April nodded quickly, her eyes still closed. 

Ann’s free hand raked across the other side of her hip, and she kissed April nearly on the mouth. April whimpered, pressing her body against Ann’s. “Darling,” Ann whispered against her cheek. “I’m going to take off your panties.”

April still didn’t open her eyes, but she nodded even more vehemently, her forehead deeply furrowed, her right hand fumbling with her left.

Ann sank down to her knees, and April’s breath shuddered in her chest. Ann resisted the temptation to kiss April’s thighs. Ann ran a hand up each leg, under April’s skirt, and up to her hipbones. She hooked each finger into the panties and slowly pulled them down. April braced herself against the wall. First one leg, which Ann lovingly caressed as Aprils stepped out of her panties gingerly, and then the other, until the panties were in Ann’s hand. Ann’s hand gently traced April’s thigh as she stood up. 

Ann began sucking on the place April’s neck met her collar bone. While she kissed her, she ran the pad of her thumb across the crotch of April’s panties. They were sopping wet.

April pulled her closer, and Ann could practically smell the desire on April’s skin.

“I thought about this all day,” Ann whispered as her hand cupped April’s ass, feeling it through her skirt without the added layer of her panties. Ann kissed April’s collarbone harder, eliciting a whimper as April stretched her neck out for Ann to suck on.

“We can’t--” April said, only to moan out as Ann sucked on a sensitive spot on April’s neck. “I’m…” April started, as her hand pulled slid down to Ann’s ass and squeezed it hard, “I’m straight.”

“I know you are, baby,” Ann said softly. “But you have to tell me…” Ann nipped at April’s neck, and April let out another wanting moan. 

Ann removed her lips from April’s neck, and looked at her. April’s eyes were still closed, as if it was the last semblance she had of control.

“I know you’re straight,” she said, kissing her gently on the cheek, “But... if I went down on you, would you come?”

April whimpered, biting her lip at the very thought. Finally she said, quietly: “Yes.”

Ann kissed her on the other cheek. “Tell me again,” she whispered.

“I’d come,” April breathed out.

“How hard would you come, my love?” Ann asked quietly, stroking her thumb over April’s lower lip.

April’s lower lip began to quiver. Almost wincing, she choked out her desperate answer: “So hard. I’d come so hard for you.”

“I know you will,” Ann said, and lead April by the hand to her bedroom. 

Ann laid her down on her bed. 

“Listen to me,” Ann said. “It’s time, my love. I know you’re straight, and I’m your best friend, but... I’m going to make love to you now.” 

April nodded, her eyes still closed, and began to clutch her hands nervously, just like she had in the car. “I--I--” she started. 

“What is it?” Ann asked, gently stroking April’s hair. 

She opened her eyes, and they were filled with panic as she pointed a shaking finger at her wedding ring. “ _I can’t get it off_.” 

“Hey, hey,” Ann said as she reached out. 

April’s movements became more frantic. “Help me. Help me get it off.”

“Shh,” Ann said, and calmly took April’s shuddering hands. They stilled at her touch.

She gently slid off April’s wedding ring. It wasn’t so hard for her.

April’s shoulder slumped, and even though she now looked exhausted, it was like she could breathe again. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, completely depleted. For a second, Ann tensed up. “Please…” April said, her brown eyes desperate, pleading, almost on the verge of tears. “Please make love to me.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann does what April asks.

“Darling,” Ann said as she cupped April’s cheek. April’s lower lip trembled as her thumb brushed it. “Are you sure?” 

It felt like she was asking April to leave everything behind. As if she and April stood at the edge of the city, where the lights couldn’t penetrate the surrounding darkness. As if, in that quiet darkness, she could only offer April her hand. 

April wouldn’t meet her gaze. Perhaps she, too, thought that Ann asking her to leave everything behind. And maybe she was.

“I can’t fight this anymore,” her voice barely a whisper as a single tear fled her eye. 

Ann knew what April was giving up. And in that moment, all she wanted to do was make April’s sacrifice worth something. Worth everything.

Ann pulled April in close, her pulse quickening. April flinched. “I’m sorry. But… can I…?”

Ann’s hand slid down April’s shirt in fits and starts, bent fingers catching on fabric. “What do you need, my love?”

“Wine?” she said, looking desperately into Ann’s eyes, her features already a beautiful, sad apology. “I think-- I need--”

“It’s OK,” Ann said, rubbing April’s shoulder. “I’ll get you some.”

Ann left April for the kitchen. There the only sounds were the dull pop of uncorking the bottle, and the muffled splash of wine in the bottom of the glass. 

She stared into the wine glass sitting in the middle of the counter. Everything was dark and maroon reflected in the red circle of liquid. 

When she returned to the bedroom, April took the wine absentmindedly, holding it aloft while she stared at the bedsheets, waves and ebbs and valleys of cotton in the low light cast by the bedside lamp. For a long time, April just stared, until Ann put a hand on her thigh. Then April took a sip of wine, and then a gulp; she put the glass down onto the bedside table, clattering.

“I’m sorry,” April stuttered out. 

“Shh,” Ann said as she embraced her, their cheeks pressed together. “Shh.”

Her words were quieted when April pressed her lips against Ann’s. It was the first time they had kissed, really kissed, since D.C..

April’s lips trembled against Ann’s, and they spent several minutes of hesitant, soft kissing, turning their mouths this way and that. 

Eventually, April lowered her head to rest on Ann’s shoulder. She whispered something barely audible.

“What is it, my love?” Ann asked, rubbing April’s back.

“Make love to me. Like you said you would,” she whispered into April’s shoulder. Her words sounded like a broken confession.

Ann brought April’s lips to meet hers once more. 

April sniffed. “I want to come for you,” she said weakly as a new tear snaked down her cheek, across her cheekbone, down to her jaw, falling onto Ann’s forearm in a hot splash. “ _Only you_.”

Ann moved lower, wavering as she came to April’s thighs. She looked up to April for one last confirmation, one last acquiescence. 

But April’s glassy eyes were focused up at the bedroom ceiling, and she did not look at Ann, and did not say anything. Slowly, hesitatingly, April spread her legs a few inches apart. 

Ann leaned down to kiss April’s legs, her lips eliciting a shiver. Ann kissed higher.

April’s breath was becoming ragged. “Please,” she whispered. 

Ann kissed up higher, pushing April’s skirt up onto her hips. 

April whimpered.

Ann’s teeth gripped the soft skin of April’s inner thigh.

“Yes,” April said, her hips lifting off the bed slightly.

Ann kissed higher and higher, her lips so close to April’s pussy that she could feel the heat from April’s center. 

“Ann,” April begged.

Ann tilted her head, and gently pressed her lips against April’s labia. Immediately she felt her lips coated with April, and gently sucked off that wetness. Every part of April was beautiful, glistening. April was drenched.

Slowly, Ann explored April. She tasted more perfect than in every imagination of Ann's. Lips against her clit, drawing it into her mouth to suck on it with aching slowness. Tongue sliding up her labia, pressing against her center, around her clit, and down again. 

There was no quick build, no desperate thrusting. There was only soft moans and whispered, desperate words.

“More.”

“Oh God.”

“I need you.”

Ann explored April lovingly, and Ann felt a hand on the back of her head, guiding her closer and deeper. With that coaxing, Ann slid her tongue into April, tasting her there.

“ _Fuck_ ,” April said, halfway between gasping and crying. Ann felt the bed move as April shook her head back and forth. “ _I… I can only come for you _.”__

__Ann slid her tongue as deep as she could, and April shuddered, her hips lifting up and body shaking as she came for Ann. The taste of April filled her mouth, emblazoned on her mind._ _

__She would remember this moment until the end of her life._ _

__She slowly pulled the covers over her and April. “Wait,” April said, still recovering from her orgasm, barely able to think. “I can… for you.”_ _

__“In the morning,” Ann whispered. She wrapped her body around April._ _

__April sniffed, her breathing still ragged. Ann realized that she was no longer short of breath. She was crying._ _

__“Was it… not good?” Ann whispered._ _

April shook her head. “It was… amazing.” Ann felt a moment of relief. “It was the best I’ve ever felt. It was… _Oh God, Ann_...” She curled into a ball, convulsing with each sob. “ _Nothing will ever hurt him as much as this_.” 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after that night.

The next morning, April didn’t make love to Ann. When she woke, her eyes were still red from crying herself to sleep the night before. 

Ann just held her, stroking her hair while April looked sadly at the sunlight dappling the sheets, rumpled from their lovemaking. 

* * * 

“Sure you want to walk? I can drive you,” Ann said, tucking a strand of hair behind April’s ear. On the front porch, April's eyes were illuminated by the young daylight of the morning. 

“Yeah,” April said. “I’ll be fine.” 

Ann leaned over to kiss April softly. 

At first April hesitated, but she gave in, like she always did, and kissed Ann deeper, her hands tracking up Ann’s side and then down again to her hips.

Ann grabbed April’s hands, squeezing them beside her. “Come back to me soon. I need my compass.”

April’s eyes were sad, but loving. “Promise,” she said, and turned and walked down the middle of the road, empty in the quiet of the early morning.

For a while Ann just watched her go, as she disappeared past the next block. It was the first time since she could remember that April leaving her didn’t make her sad. It was because she truly believed, this time, that April would come back.

“I guess when she’s with you,” Andy’s breaking voice said from behind her, “she doesn’t have to pretend to be happy.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How things are now.

That morning, Andy left, his face red with tears, pushing her weakly away with both hands. She called April again and again, but April’s phone must have been on silent. By the evening, she had stopped calling. April didn’t call her back.

The next day at work, she waited, full of hope and anxiety. Leslie arrived at work first, followed by Donna. Then Ron arrived and Tom. There was still no sign of April or Andy. Even Jerry, who had somehow lost his car keys while he was driving to work, showed up before they did. It was then that Ann overheard Leslie and Ron talking.

“Don’t be mad, Ron, she and Andy called in sick.”

“Both of them sick at the same time,” Ron said, frowning. “Convenient.”

“They’re two kids in love, Ron. Let them have a little fun.”

It was three days before Ann saw April again.

* * * 

That morning, Ann saw April come through the doors of City Hall. Ann jogged down the hall, zigzagging through people, to see her. She stopped short when she saw April’s expression. It said: _Don’t._

When Ann got back to her office, she closed the door, and with fumbling fingers she could barely get the blinds closed before she began to choke on her own tears. 

* * *

It took a week to get April to speak to her. 

Ann waited until she was sure April was leaving, and walked out of the building with her. April walked down one row of cars in the parking lot, trying not to make eye contact, while Ann walked down the next row. When April got to her car, Ann stopped, and spoke over the cars between them. 

“You haven’t come over in weeks,” Ann said nervously.

April just looked at her, as if she hoped she didn’t have to say it -- until she did. “I can’t keep running away from him.”

* * *

The next day, Ann saw April eating lunch on the bench outside, where they had shared so many lunches together. Ann sat down next to her. April stood up and left, leaving her barely-touched lunch behind.

* * * 

A week after that, Ann found her in the empty conference room on the third floor, alone.

“Hey,” Ann said.

April didn’t say anything, but her body shrank at Ann’s voice. April wasn’t angry, she wasn’t scared. She looked exhausted. 

“I miss my friend. Can’t we be friends again?” Ann said.

April looked up, and locked eyes with Ann. “We tried being friends…”

Ann held her gaze. It took a second, but Ann finished April’s sentence: “...And it didn’t work.”

April looked away, resigned already. “He said he’d give me another chance.”

* * * 

It was what April didn’t say which echoed in her mind: “And I’m taking it.” She turned the thought over and over in her mind, until she couldn’t take it any more, and drove out to the liquor store. She stocked up.

In the weeks that followed, the promise of a screwdriver (or three) when she got home, and the nonchalant haziness that came with it, was the only reason to get through the day. When she was drunk, her estrangement from April took on a kind of mythic importance; she could play the martyr, the unlucky soul picked out by fate to represent the arbitrariness of the universe. It had all happened so fast. She thought back to April resting in her arms the night after their lovemaking. She thought of April walking by her in the hall as if she didn’t know her. 

For a while, the ache was dulled enough to be bearable. 

For a while.

Eventually the quiet of the dark, empty home she came back to each night was only magnified by the vodka. It made her solitude more absolute; it meant that she didn’t just feel loneliness -- she bathed in it.

The haze of alcohol dulled her caring; but it betrayed her, too. She started texting April. She had stopped caring how angry April would get with her, how she might sabotage any chance of them being friends again. 

By her third drink, she would go back through their old conversations in texts. Little things she mentioned to April throughout the day. April complaining about Jerry. Ann texting her good morning.

And by her third drink, often a long while after midnight, Ann would inevitably text her again.

**Remember that time we skipped work and watched _Halloween_ , but then we couldn’t get that stupid soundtrack out of our heads?”**

**I feel like Leslie is going to get arrested if she keeps sending fan mail to Elizabeth Warren.**

**What are you up to?**

**Leslie wants someone to go to Snerling to promote a Parks initiative. Maybe we could convince her to send both of us?**

**If I’m at work, or just walking around, I keep thinking about what you’d say about everything. Is that stupid? I’m pretty sure I know what you’d say. I’m pretty sure I know you better than anyone.**

**When I get home from work, I don’t know what to do. Half the time I just sit around. I need my compass.**

And in the dark, quiet house, as the haze made the letters on her screen blurry, her fingers moved automatically:

**I miss you.**

Her phone confirmed what she suspected. Each message was received. April never texted her back.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two conversations.

It had been four days since April had spoken to her.

In those four days, it felt less and less like April would show up at her door, ready to make her choice.

Ann woke up at about two in the morning; she felt awful, the vodka that had lulled her to sleep leaving her stomach a roiling hot uneasiness. She laid in bed, watching the ceiling, willing herself desperately to fall asleep again. She was so tired, but even the residual, pallid buzz of alcohol wouldn’t allow her to go back to sleep. 

She got up. She dressed herself. She grabbed her purse.

She was getting in her car before she realized where she was going.

During the ten minute drive, she didn’t see a single car or person. Even the radio had cut out. But the quiet didn’t let her think -- it only magnified the pounding in her chest.

When she got to April’s, she sat in the driveway and waited, not turning the car off, absentmindedly tracing the steering wheel. Her body had come here of its own accord, loosed from the reins of her mind. She waited patiently for its next decision.

But before any decision was made, the porch light turned on. April was standing there, in the doorway, a black silhouette against a rectangle of yellow, angular light in the abyss of the night.

She clutched herself in the growing coldness of the night and walked over to the car. 

“Turn it off,” she said glumly. “He’s sleeping.”

Ann took the keys out of the ignition. April walked around to the passenger side, and got in, the interior quiet after the click of the door.

April didn’t look at her.

What Ann said next surprised her, almost as much as the vehemence with which she said it: “We could just leave. Just put your seatbelt on and let’s go, it doesn’t matter if--”

“--Stop.” April said quietly. “Please, just stop.”

Ann shook her head as she fought back tears. “I don’t understand.”

“Look,” April said, on the verge of crying, “I knew that I was doing would hurt him, and I tried not to. I tried for so long, to just be friends with you. But I was lying… and you didn’t want me to stop. We couldn’t even _talk_ about what we were really doing because we knew it was wrong. _We both knew_.”

Ann hated everything April was saying. She hated it. “Yeah, I knew, but… I didn’t care. April, I just want you -- no matter what.”

“That’s because you don’t have to see what this did to him.”

Ann flinched, and opened her mouth to disagree, but the words weren’t there. She had persistently avoided thinking about Andy -- every thought was about April. 

“The day he found out?” April said. “He called me and left a voicemail, and he was crying and all he said was…” Her voice was shaking now. “All he said was: ‘Why?’ He didn’t come home for _six hours_ after that. He thought it was _his fault_ , he _still_ thinks that. So, no, Ann. I can’t just go with you.”

April got out of the car. When she looked inside, Ann had never seen her eyes more beautiful, or more sad.

“I’m really trying not to screw this whole thing up. Please don’t make it harder for me.”

* * *

Ann was grateful that Leslie was always awake. Even in the middle of the night, every light in Leslie’s house was on. Inside, it was bright and clean. The stacks of newspapers and old gifts were gone, and replaced with a new, efficient simplicity. It must have been the influence of Ben, who was gone this week on business. When Ann arrived there, her hands were trembling. 

“Hey,” Leslie said gently. She didn’t understand what any of this was about, but her eyes were compassionate. “Come here.” Leslie hugged Ann tight, but there was an uncomfortability in her eyes. It had been so long since Ann had confided in her. Every up and down had been a mystery to Leslie, something she always asked Ann about, and something Ann never shared. For a moment Ann remembered back to the time, so long ago, when she could tell Leslie anything. The time she hoped to return to.

“I, umm… I need to tell you about some things.” 

Leslie nodded. “This is… whatever’s been going on with you for the past few months. Isn’t it?”

Ann clutched herself, nodding. “Yeah. Could I, you know--? Could I have a drink for this?”

Leslie eyed her for a long moment. “OK,” she said. “But then you tell me everything.”

* * * 

“Now she won’t return my calls,” Ann said, wiping away a tear. “She won’t even _look_ at me at work.”

“Because…” Leslie trailed off.

“Yeah,” Ann said. “And now, when I come home I don’t even know what to do. Last night I just sat on the couch with the TV off, in silence, waiting for… her.”

“Because you were… _with_ April.”

“Yeah.”

“You were with April. She’s--”

“Another woman.”

“--married.”

“I mean…” Ann wavered, brought up short. 

Leslie shot her a hard look. 

“Yeah,” Ann admitted. “She’s married.”

“Ann, _I’m_ married. What if someone did that with Ben? Do you know what that would do to me?”

“It’s not like that--”

Leslie cut her off sharply: “It’s _exactly_ like that.”

As the tone of Leslie’s voice lanced into her, she waited -- she waited for herself to collapse into tears, or for Leslie to soften. But nothing happened; Leslie was stolid, her eyes unblinking in angry judgment.

Slowly, Ann realized that everything was slipping away. She shook her head, holding it in her hands. She whispered out the words that, until now, she didn’t dare utter: “I think I love her.”

Leslie was silent. She looked up. For a second it looked like she would soften. She didn’t. Leslie said the truth bitterly: “That’s not a good enough reason.” 

Ann got up from the table, and stared out the window. Everything in her had slowly disintegrated into dull resignation. 

“I guess not,” she said, admitting what she always should have known.

Before she knew it, she had walked out Leslie’s door. 

* * * 

That night, when she got home, she stuffed some clothes, a toothbrush, and some other things into three bags, and put them in the trunk of her car. She turned off the lights in the house, and began driving. 

The first exit highway out of Pawnee led west, so that’s the road she took.

She was half way through Iowa when she realized that she was never coming back.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When all you do is run, it doesn't feel like running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this one! Especially since Ann x April is not exactly a popular ship, I’m so grateful to everyone who commented on and gave kudos to this fic: IdaPhillips, bbf3, atlantisairlock, imalurker, Superfreak100, Bobsaget, Ted, Tori, Alexa, Chris, Marie, Katie, geepard, bleachbottle, MTL17, klaudos, Mason94, Dilicious, falsesense, coolgirl24, WeBeTheMonsters, k, and sharpiecakes.

At some point on the drive, Ann called her old realtor, the one who had sold her the house. The road ran dark under her headlights, and she told him what she wanted.

“The market isn’t bad right now. It should only be a month or two before we get a really good offer,” he said, his voice staticky through the speaker on her phone.

“Take the first offer. Whatever it is.”

“I… OK. I’ll have to send you the final paperwork, when it’s ready. Where should I send it?”

For a long moment, Ann just watched the murky road ahead of her. “I’ll let you know when I find out,” she said, and hung up.

* * * 

The first day was the hardest. The midwest felt empty. Each passing exit, each mile of cornfields and soybeans -- they all faded into one another, steady against the flat blue horizon.

Ann drove until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She turned into a county line road, pulled off to the side, and slept contorted in the back seat. When she awoke, it was as if she hadn’t slept. She kept driving.

Along the way she ate fries from a drive through, and slim jims from gas stations with generic cola.

After the monotony of Iowa and Nebraska she wanted mountains, and so in Cheyenne she turned north. The plains of dried, yellow grass slowly gave way to low hills, dotted with green bushes and ragged wire fences for cattle. The sky slowly opened up, expanding far and wide across the horizon. In the distance, Ann could see mountains, capped with snow, telling their distance and remoteness. She stopped at a motel south of Yellowstone, slept on top of the preternaturally crisp sheets, on the bed that was made for anyone.

She thought she dreamt of April. It was the kind of dream that you could remember if as soon as you awoke you worked to dredge it up. She busied herself with directions, and tried to forget it.

* * *

When she stopped in Billings, she asked the desk clerk at the hotel if she knew of any places that were hiring. The woman said that her friend had just quit at “The Northern,” and that she should apply there.

It was a hotel with a restaurant attached; she walked in and asked for a job as a server, knowing that if she didn’t get it, she’d just keep driving.

They told her she’d start the next Tuesday. That was a good enough reason as any to stop running.

* * *

One day at work she was sitting in the break room, aimlessly browsing on her phone, when it rang. The picture that came up was April’s. She was on Ann’s couch, half-smiling, half pushing the camera away, a lock of dark hair falling beautifully across her face. Ann stared at the phone in her hand, unsure of what to do. Then it quieted and the picture vanished. Ann exhaled, and pushed the phone away onto the table. 

She smoothed out her shirt and pants, and stood up, getting ready to go back to the front of the house, when the phone beeped. A message.

She could just put the phone in her pocket and pretend that nothing had happened. She could delete the voicemail now, and not have to think about this any more. 

But when she picked up the phone, her breath caught in her throat, and she listened to the message. 

“Umm, hey,” April said. Ann’s heartbeat picked up. She glanced around -- no one else there.

“I guess you’re… doing something. Or whatever. So everyone’s saying that you just left. People say you’re not even coming back. But you shouldn’t just run away from… Just, look, we can be friends--”

Ann ended the message. She stood with the phone against her ear still, the break room silent as the word “friends” echoed in her mind. 

In a jolt she smashed the phone against the wall as hard as she could, and dropped its cracked carcass in the trash. 

If she was going to start over, she might as well do it right.

* * * 

Some nights, when she had one more nightcap than she should, she thought about what would have happened if April had gone with her that night. She would have given up everything for April. If only they could have made it out alive, together. 

Instead of whatever this was. 

* * * 

One day at work she was serving a group of women, and she thought she saw them watching her while they talked. After the check was paid, they all left except one, a small, pretty blond woman with light freckles and a sweet smile. She asked if she could have Ann’s number.

Ann thought she was pretty, and she seemed kind and tender. But Ann had long ago given up on the idea that she could do that again. She had given up on the idea that anyone could love her in the way she needed love. 

She just shrugged, and smiled sadly. The woman hesitated, unsure if Ann would answer her, and eventually left. Ann just shook her head. She wasn’t like everyone else, and she had to remind herself that it didn’t always show on the outside.

* * * 

During the day, Pawnee seemed like a dream. Something that happened to someone else. Once she got rid of her phone, once the house was sold, she could go weeks without being reminded. It was so, so easy to leave everything behind.

Ann found a small studio apartment on the outskirts of town, only a 20 minute drive to the hotel’s restaurant. 

She slowly filled her apartment with pots and pans, bedsheets and furniture. She did the dishes in the quiet of a bare kitchen, and everything about the act familiar but the context -- the the place, the dishes, the sponges and dishsoap she had bought from the local supermarket. When she fell asleep each night, even though she knew it was her new home, it still felt like a hotel room.

* * * 

For a long time, it still felt like that -- her home like a hotel, her life like a vacation with an uncertain end date. Eventually, though, new routines took over. Not that her life ever felt like it did in Pawnee. Since her last day in Pawnee, she had lowered her expectations of life too much for things to feel the same here. But even though they never felt the same, eventually they began to feel normal. It took about a year.

Occasionally there would be small reminders of Pawnee. A Sweetums wrapper that crinkled in the footwell of her car; a telephone call with a Pawnee area code, where the person on the other end said nothing (a wrong number, she guessed); a letter from a collections agency in Indiana, wanting her to pay her old electric bill. 

But eventually, without really trying, Pawnee seemed less like a past, and more like a story she had read once -- a story she had immersed herself in, but had eventually moved on from. She had no history any longer, she had been born _ex nihilo_ here in Montana, south of the mountains. 

Yet sometimes, when she was hungover from drinking herself to sleep the night before, she would wake up in her studio, and for a half second she expected to find April next to her. The feeling faded quickly, and yet Ann suspected it never fully went away. She wondered if it ever would. She wondered what it would feel like to live the rest of her life with a ghost.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how it ends.

From the table, Ann cleared away the empty glass caked with the dried remains of the previous night’s white russians. As usual, she would spend the first half of her day off nursing a hangover, cleaning her small apartment. Cleaning didn’t take long; after a year, her studio was still mostly empty, the morning light stark against the bare walls. 

She looked at those walls as she made herself breakfast and ate it on the small couch. She imagined what it would be like if she hung up something on the wall -- she remembered vaguely how she used to like Botticelli and Klimt. If she wanted to, she could make her studio pretty.

For the first time since she had arrived in Montana, she thought about whether she wanted to treat this as more than a place to sleep.

* * * 

A few days later, she was serving a table of nurses still wearing scrubs, the light and dark blues gaudy against the wood panelling of the restaurant. 

“And what can I get you?” she asked the nurse at the head of the table.

The woman glanced up at her, but kept chattering to the man beside her. 

Ann dropped her notepad to her side, and spoke up louder. “What can I get you?” 

This time the woman didn’t even notice; she laughed, gesticulating in the service of a pointless story.

Ann went back to the kitchen, leaned up against the walk in and closed her eyes.

* * * 

A week later, she drove to the outskirts of town where they had built the new hospital. Umber hills climbed beside the road, broken by the occasional dirt road. The only thing for miles was a small, battered house, probably built in the 40’s or earlier, white paint peeling on the shutters. 

She arrived at the new hospital, gleaming against the hills and blue sky. The interview only lasted about ten minutes. They were clearly shortstaffed, and she got the call after the weekend that she’d be starting on Friday. On her first day, she recognized the woman from the restaurant. The woman in question had already botched a blood draw. It was obvious, even from a few moments observation, that she wasn’t a very good nurse. Ann felt sorry for her, and tried to forget. 

* * * 

When she had returned from a long day at the hospital, she sat and drank chamomile tea instead of vodka, while she looked at the warm glow of the fading light against the Gauguin prints that lined the wall opposite the couch. 

For the first time in a long while, she wished someone was sitting beside her. For so long, she had lived with loneliness like it was a part of her; a gaping hole that April Ludgate had left, unfillable. But this felt different; it wasn’t the kind of loneliness that fixed upon her chest, choking out everything. It was the kind that might go away -- with the right person. 

Then, what April left would be a memory, not a hole. A mark, not a scar.

It was then that she realized April could no longer be the empty center of her orbit. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered to that ghost. 

She was rudderless, but free.

* * *

Ann almost forgot her coffee when she was getting ready for her performance review. She felt good about things; she thought she’d do well. She grabbed the warm tumbler, and as she reached for her keys she opened the door and--

“Hey.”

Ann stumbled back as her keys dropped to the floor with a clatter. 

“April?” Ann said dully. April Ludgate was standing in the doorway, but the question tumbled out anyway.

“Yeah,” April said quietly as she watched Ann. It was strange how April looked the same, but different. Still those intense dark eyes and curving lips framed by black hair. But now April wore glasses, which somehow made her look older. She looked tired; a little thinner than when Ann had seen her last. It had to be almost two years ago now.

“How did you… find me?”

April shrugged and picked at something invisible on her sleeve. “There aren’t that many Ann Perkinses in the US. Well, I mean, there are more than you’d think. But I made a list and kept calling, and one time I tried a number and I heard your voice.” She looked away from Ann. “After all those calls, you finally answered and I… I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t say anything.”

Ann needed to sit down, and with a groping hand found the couch behind her and lowered herself onto it.

April stepped forward through the door and closed it behind her. She was really here, walking toward Ann, looking like in the past year she had weathered something arduous. 

“I know what to say now,” April said softly and reached out for Ann’s arm. “Is it OK if I say it?”

Ann just nodded.

“I tried… I tried for a long time to make things work with Andy. He really wanted it to work, he wanted to be with me. Even after he knew what I did. But it’s… it’s hard to heal, when you don’t understand. And he didn’t really understand. I tried to explain it to him, so many times; I told him about D.C. and about after, but he just… he would never understand what happened. I mean, I guess he didn’t have to understand. I guess I could have stayed. He would have let me. But I had to be honest with myself. About what I really wanted, about who I wanted to be with.” April took a deep breath. “I’m not married anymore. I made the wrong choice, and I want to fix it. If you let me… then I choose you.”

Uneasily, Ann stood, shaking her head. “I think I was just learning to live without you…”

April smiled, and it was the kind of smile which Ann would trade a thousand days to see. 

“Now you won’t have to,” she said.

* * *

Ann and April rounded the side of the house, the high grass brushing against their ankles as they walked. “This is the house you pass every day on your way to work?” 

“I know it’s kind of messed up, but wait. Look at the back.”

In the back of the house was a wide, weatherbeaten porch. Behind the glass, on the windowsill, were old cans from the 50’s, their labels yellowed and cracked. The house looked out to vast expanse of fields and hills, the color of a fading sunset. The wind poured over the grass in long waves, and rustled the single narrow tree in the distance. 

April turned to Ann, shaking her head. “I love it. So much.” She crushed Ann in a hug. “It’s so weird and beautiful,” April said.

“You’re weird and beautiful,” Ann said teasingly, stealing a kiss. She twined her fingers in April’s and walked her around to the front to find the woman standing patiently by the For Sale sign. “We’ll take it.”

* * * 

From the couch on the porch, Ann watched clouds flow across the sky, lit from the low sun behind her, until they were as golden as the dried grass on the hills below them. The sky stretched on and on, and sitting under the immensity of it, everything felt different from the cramped spaces of Pawnee and DC. 

As the sun began to set, casting the clouds in orange and coral, Ann shivered with the cooling air. She began to get up, when April came through the back door with a blanket. 

“I was just going to get that,” Ann said.

April wrapped Ann in the blanket. “I know you got used to doing things by yourself,” she said, draping it over her shoulders, “but I get to take care of you now.” April kissed Ann, and they stood like that, exploring each other’s lips like it was the first time. 

Then Ann settled back into the couch while next to her April burrowed into the blanket. April nuzzled into Ann’s neck, sighing. Ann stroked her hair as they watched the light paint the hills in changing hues. 

Ann gently took April’s hand and turned it over in hers. She traced her fingers over the tattoo April got before she left Pawnee.

“I love you. For changing everything… for finding me,” Ann whispered.

“Where you are, I will be,” April promised. “I’ll always find you.”

Ann brushed her thumb around the black circle on April’s wrist, an etched spire at its center, pointing toward April’s palm, toward Ann. A compass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lines and images from the last two chapters come from the song "Compass" by Zella Day, which, to me, epitomizes Ann x April.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Liquid Days (Never Change)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796686) by [opti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opti/pseuds/opti)




End file.
